


Tailored to You

by shadowchan93



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Deathshipping, Dorks in Love, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Not much plot, Piercings, Plot What Plot, Tailor AU, Thiefshipping, Trans Male Character, Visionshipping, You Have Been Warned, but lots of smut, self-indulgent smutfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-05-07 05:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19202644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowchan93/pseuds/shadowchan93
Summary: When the news reach the Ishtars that Isis's and Mai's wedding dresses won't be done in time, all hell breaks lose. They're recommended a skilled tailor in town, however, said tailor seems to be more interested in Malik than in his sister's dress.[Thiefshipping as main shipping, Vision and Death as side-shippings, AU setting]Updates on Thursdays and has lots of illustrations





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, after almost a year of me telling about the story idea, the story is finally there. I have no idea if it's any good or cringy as hell. First time writing something like this all by myself. Could've started slowly but NOPE I jumped right in and dragged myself through smut-writing-bootcamp. Have fun. You have been warned.
> 
> Many many thanks to DisposableVillain who worked on the idea together with me and we had really nice discussions about the topic! Also many many thanks to DistractedDream for beta-reading all of this and to Tia-Lewise for helping me out when I got stuck!
> 
> As another pre-note, I would like to mention that Bakura in this story is somewhere on the nb or genderfluid spectrum meaning he'll run around in male and female associated clothing attires (but he's still using male pronouns). I haven't really specified anywhere what the hell is up with him and maybe he doesn't even know it himself. So I'd like to leave it open for the reader if they want to interpret it in him being nb or somehow genderfluid or even somewhere on his way to figuring out he's trans or maybe he also just wants to give social rules a big FUCK YOU by not following them or maybe he just likes to wear skirts once in a while.
> 
> As one more pre-note, upon DisposableVillain's request, Ryou's trans in this story :) 
> 
> Also, thiefshipping is the main pairing. The other two pairings are mentioned, but they are not the focus of this story.
> 
> Also, Tailor!Kura was partly inspired by Sita's Hairdresser!Kura, so if you spot any parallels that's highest likely why.

 

#  **Tailored to You  
**

[(Source)](https://shadow-chan93.tumblr.com/post/185567882927/tailored-to-you-listen-up-i-watched-too-many)

#  **Chapter 1**

 

Malik ran a hand through his soft hair, brushing it backwards and making sure it’d look nice. Once more, he checked his appearance in the mirror, hoping no one would see how nervous and stressed out he was. He adjusted the tie around his neck and the cuffs of his sleeves before he offered his arm to his sister to take.

All nervousness washed away and was replaced by joy once he saw his sister. Isis looked beautiful and beamed the brightest smile at her brother. Malik had never seen her happier before and he truly wished that happiness would last for the rest of her life. He mirrored Isis’ smile and squeezed her hand before the big double winged doors opened and he led her down the aisle.

Mai already waited at the altar and her face lit up the moment her eyes fell upon her soon-to-be wife. Malik handed his sister over to Mai, knowing they’d take good care of each other in the future. The past had already shown more than once before that, together, they were able to handle anything.

Malik stepped aside to watch the ceremony take its course; a ceremony no one had been sure could even take place a few weeks ago when all their nice plans had been crashed at once. Malik glanced over the rows of guests and found his brother Rishid, Amir, Bakura, and Ryou and shot them a thumbs-up for making this all possible at the last minute.

 

\--

 

_Some weeks prior_

“I don’t like the idea of involving a stranger.” Isis didn’t even look up as she flipped through a pile of invitation card samples. “We’ve always done everything on our own and I’d like to keep it in the family. Besides…” This time her gaze met the men in front of her. “I really doubt that someone like _him_ knows what I want for _my_ wedding.”

Her brothers had gotten the glorious idea to hire a wedding planner to relieve them all of some stress. The idea itself wouldn’t have been that bad if it wasn’t for the wedding planner himself. The brothers had presented her with some kind of punk who looked more like he’d belong at the next best rock concert than at a wedding with his spiky hair, ripped jeans and rude attitude. No way Isis would let such a person arrange her dream wedding.

Malik pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Amir was recommended to us and I’m sure he will do a great job. Have you even taken a look through his portfolio and references?”

Isis gave him a stern look. “No, Malik. Mai and I, we’re doing this on our own. I don’t want someone who doesn’t know me to prepare my wedding. End of the discussion.” She turned towards Amir who had just watched the siblings argue, hands in his pockets and a bored expression. Isis forced a smile to stay polite. “I’m sorry, but your services are not required here. No offense.”

“No worries, lady. I get it.” Amir snorted and chuckled. He didn’t seem to mind her open dislike towards him, if anything he seemed to be amused about something Isis wasn’t aware of. Maybe he knew something Isis didn’t? It didn’t take long for her to find out that, being the expert, Amir already knew he’d be needed sooner or later anyways.

 

\--

 

“This is going to be the worst day of our lives.” Isis buried her head in her hands and tugged at her own hair. “We’re way behind schedule. We’re never going to make it. Oh Gods, what do we do?!”

Mai sighed next to her, her hair wild and unkempt from hours of nervous pacing and troubleshooting with Isis. The blonde rubbed circles on her fiancée’s back in an attempt to calm her down. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get everything in place and we’ll have a total blast. I’m going to make sure of that.” She winked at her and tried to lift the mood. “And if everything fails, we’re going to bail and have a nice little Las Vegas wedding, only the two of us. How about that?”

Isis wailed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Everything had been planned so nicely. Finding the perfect venue hadn’t been a problem at all. Mai was the owner of a spacious, elegant hotel in town with a ballroom meant for social events like this. It’d be big enough to host all of their guests during the party and, if their guests felt like it, they could also visit the nightclub adjacent to it in the later hours. The location was central, offered enough rooms for their guests to stay in and also in-house catering. Aside from the venue itself, the music and entertainment had already been chosen as well. After hours and hours of going through different catalogues, they had also decided on which flowers and decorations they wanted.

One of Mai’s and Malik’s mutual friends, Ryou, would take care of the cake. Some distant relative of the Ishtar clan would take the wedding pictures. The wedding dresses were already in the making as well. Isis’ aunt had offered to take care of them and sew them both with lots of love. They’d been there a few times for fittings already and they should be done in time.

But now it all seemed to crumble. Bad luck just seemed to follow them everywhere. At first they couldn’t find a company to take care of the flowers and decorations. Time was running out, only four weeks left, and most companies were already booked out. When it came hard on hard, Isis was sure she could still find some other relatives to help set everything up nicely. Everything would still be alright. They had the venue already after all.

And that was when the hotel called, telling them one of the water pipes had broken. It caused significant damage and they’d need the ballroom to be closed down for renovation for a prolonged time. It was the busy time for social events and weddings. Finding a new place to hold the wedding within only four weeks seemed like an impossible thing to do. Especially now since Isis had to organize many things on her own as Mai was occupied with sorting out and overseeing the repair work at her hotel.

At least they’d look pretty, they thought. But then the news came in that Isis’ aunt had broken her arm and couldn’t finish the dresses. Her daughter-in-law offered to continue them, but she wasn’t as skilled and messed them up horribly. Isis had politely thanked her for her efforts, but it was clear they couldn’t wear those gowns anymore.

On top of that, Isis’ cousin was denied visa, so they were now lacking a photographer as well. The only things they still had were a DJ and the show acts to entertain the guests.

Isis sniffled as she pointed at the pile of papers and catalogues on the coffee table in front of them. “Nothing’s working out! I wanted our wedding to be beautiful! I wanted us to be beautiful! I wanted it to be the best day of our lives!”

Mai took Isis’ hands in hers and lifted them to her lips. “You’re beautiful no matter what and I’d marry you if you were wearing a potato bag.” 

“But I don’t want to wear a potato bag!”

 

\--

 

The call that everything had gone down the gutter and his sister and her fiancée had turned into Bridezillas came in the late afternoon. Malik winced at Mai’s desperate screaming and Isis’ wailing on the phone. He reassured them again that they’d somehow manage to get everything ready in time and then proceeded to contact the wedding planner again. Fortunately Amir could give them an appointment on short notice and a day later they found themselves sitting in the Ishtar’s living room.

They presented him with everything they already had (or, well, had once had), their expectations and budget, as well as the lists of venues and tailors they had already checked out in the meanwhile. Expectantly, the Ishtars and Mai looked at Amir. Maybe he was still able to rescue it.

Amir stuck out the tip of his tongue in thought and ran his hand through his wild spiky mane. This was going to be a tough challenge as he had to reorganize everything in a way too short period of time. “If you’re willing to make some adjustments to your expectations, I can find a venue and florists. No problem. I also know quite a few photographers whom I can ask if they have time.”

“Really? That would be wonderful!” Mai clapped her hands together in joy.

“What about the dresses? All tailors we’ve spoken to said they won’t make it anymore. We were told that it’s near impossible to find, order, and adjust the dresses in time.” Isis frowned, still not completely comfortable with the idea of letting Amir handle their stuff.

“I might know someone who could do the job.” Amir let out a hum and scratched his chin as he tilted his head from one side to the other. “But I must warn you. He’s a bit… difficult.”

“How difficult?”

Amir let out a loud laugh. “He’s a piece of shit, but his work is fantastic. I don’t think you will like him very much.”

 

\--

 

Two days later, they split up their tasks. Rishid and Mai would check out some of the venues while Malik and Isis followed Amir to the tailor downtown.

Malik didn’t like the quarter of the city they were currently in and he was happy he had agreed to accompany his sister here. He was just about to voice his concerns when they came to a halt in front of one of the shops. The building itself didn’t look like anything special; however the bright, elegant dress with delicate details sewn to it in laborious work and the dark suit next to it in the display window surely did.

Isis and Malik both stopped to marvel at them for a short moment before Amir reminded them to actually step inside. A jingle from the bell above the door announced their arrival as they entered.

The interior looked a lot better than the outside did. The furnishing was modern and elegant with a few lovely accents and pictures of the tailor’s previous designs here and there. Mannequins wearing the most exquisite dresses decorated the room and a big lounge with dark leather seats invited the relatives and friends of the bride to relax. Amir offered them to take a seat there and flip through the portfolios on display while they waited until it was their turn.

One huge changing stall was to the right-hand side with a white room-divider with a floral pattern blocking the view from the streets and a podium in front of them for the soon to be bride to stand on. Currently, a woman in her late twenties was standing on said podium wearing a beautiful princess style dress with many tulle layers and a big hoop skirt. A second lady was trying to close the gown’s back, but struggling. “I can’t close it anymore!”

“What? But it fit perfectly fine last week!” The woman on the podium complained.

“Well, if you didn’t stuff your face with chocolate every three seconds, your ass would still fit in my dress.” A third person appeared from the backroom, the tailor from the looks of it.

The first thing Malik noticed about him was his stark white hair. Malik had seen people with quite pale hair before, but none so bright that it glowed like the moon. The tailor had his hair tied up in a high ponytail. He was lean and wearing a white button up with a two layered waistcoat, elegant black trousers and high-heeled oxfords that matched to the rest of his outfit in shade.

The tailor adjusted his sleeves and motioned to the woman to lift her arms and started to measure her once again. He frowned at the numbers, clearly displeased. “You’re lucky I calculated enough seam allowance to make it wider. Now get out of my dress, so I can fix it up.”

The bride-to-be looked near tears before she gathered up the skirt and rushed off to hide in the changing stall.

Malik and Isis exchanged glances and then looked over to Amir. The wedding planner just shrugged. “I told you Bakura’s an asshole.”

“I heard that, Amir!” Bakura yelled as he collected the dress from the changing stall. Childishly he stuck out his tongue at Amir and the light reflected on a small metal stud piercing his tongue. He arranged the huge amount of fabric on his arm and turned to Amir. “How about you make yourself useful and offer our guests something to drink?” A typical, fake customer service smile that Malik knew all too well appeared on the tailor’s face as he turned to both Ishtars. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Amir got each of them a coffee from a small bar next to the lounge. His phone buzzed and the event planner had to excuse himself as he had another appointment with Mai and Rishid at one of the venues. He smiled apologetically at the two siblings. “I’m sorry I’ll have to leave you alone with him. Don’t be fooled by his behaviour. He knows what he’s doing even if he’s an asshole.”

Another “I heard that, you prick!” came from the back of the shop.

“I’m not so sure if coming here was such a great idea.” Isis whispered to Malik after Amir left while Bakura brought the dress away and saw the previous clients to the door. The bride to be was still close to tears, but Bakura said something to her at the door that Malik couldn’t understand and a small smile appeared on her face. She dabbed the tears away with a tissue Bakura handed her and in the end she laughed again at something stupid Bakura must’ve said. 

The blond sighed. He had to agree with her, but Bakura was one of their last options. “Let’s give him a chance at first. We can still go if we don’t like what he has to offer.”

Bakura approached and came to a halt in front of them. He placed a hand on his hip and grinned at them. “Hello, name’s Bakura and I specialize in custom-made gowns and suits for all occasions. How can I help you?”

Isis gave him a suspicious look and introduced herself and Malik. “We’re looking for wedding dresses.”

Bakura looked her over. “For you?”

Isis nodded in return.

Bakura snapped his fingers and walked over to a shelf that harboured various ring binders filled with pictures. He pulled out six of them and brought them to the table. “Look through it and tell me which elements you like best. Meanwhile I’ll sort through the dresses I have here so you can try some on to get an idea about what might suit you.”

The variety of dresses offered to them in the binders was huge, yet it was clear to see which dress styles were more popular than others this season. Isis and Malik didn’t even notice how much time had already passed when Bakura approached them again an hour later. “Found anything you like?”

A bit overwhelmed, Isis looked from binder to binder. “There’s so much! I couldn’t possibly decide so fast.”

Bakura let out a laugh. “Yeah, no one can. And all of them always want something that will look utterly horrible on them. Let me just bring something I think might suit you.” He turned towards Malik. “And you better take your leave now. It brings bad luck if the groom sees the bride in her dress before the wedding.”

Isis blinked. “Oh, no, he can stay. He’s my brother, not the groom. I’d like to get his opinion.”

A smirk appeared on Bakura’s face. “I see… Well, if that’s the case, you don’t possibly need a suit too, do you, Mr. Ishtar? I’d love to,” his grin widened, “measure you up as well.”

Malik gaped at him for a moment, not failing to notice the blunt undertone of Bakura’s question. “No, thank you. I don’t need one.”

“A pity, really. Suit yourself then.” Bakura chuckled over his own bad pun and shrugged before he led Isis to the rack with his choice of dresses. “Pick what you like and try it on.”

He had estimated the sizes quite well. Almost all of the dresses fit somehow, even if they’d still need to be adjusted. All dresses were beautiful and unlike any dresses the Ishtars had seen before. They had quite quickly decided that princess style dresses didn’t look so well on Isis, so they went with other styles. It took several hours to go through all dresses the shop currently had to offer. They had found six gowns to take into closer consideration, although unfortunately none of them combined all the elements they would’ve liked.

“Why don’t you like that one? It suits her damn fine. What’s wrong with it?” Bakura asked as he circled around Isis who currently wore a long dress with a mermaid skirt and open back.

Malik nodded as well. “Actually, I think so too. Why not, Isis?”

Isis smiled gentled at Malik. “I don’t know… It just feels wrong to expose my back like this.”

The blond blinked at her, then nodded in silence and cast his eyes downwards, silently thanking her for her consideration.

Isis turned back to Bakura. “Do you have anything that covers a bit… more?”

They found another dress for her that had a similar skirt, but a different cut for the top.

Bakura stood there with one hand on his chin. He tilted his head as he looked at the last dress. Then he shook his head. “It looks good, but it’d look better with a different kind of sleeve I think. I don’t like those on her. They make her arms look fat.”

“My sister’s not fat!”

“I said the sleeves make her arms LOOK fat, not that she’s fat. Listen to what I say, dumbass.”

Malik scowled at Bakura for a moment, but then he remembered the marvellous dress they had already seen from the street. “What’s with the dress in the display window?”

“Not for sale.” Bakura stated without looking at them as he put dresses back on their respective mannequins.

“Can’t you make the same model again?”

“Don’t mock me, Ishtar. All of my dresses are custom-made unique pieces. There’s no such thing as ‘same model’. They’re all different.”

Isis rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Alright guys, you have fun arguing, I’m going to take this dress off now. I’m exhausted.” She sighed and rubbed her temples on her way to the changing stall. This would be a long, long way to get her dress. And her brother’s constant bickering with the tailor didn’t really help matters a lot either.

Once Isis returned from the changing stall, they sat back down on the couch with another round of coffee to make a list of attributes they liked and which ones not. “I’m a bit sad that there’s nothing working among the dresses.” She admitted.

Bakura laughed and sipped on his coffee. “I can just make you something that works with everything you like. That’s not going to be a problem and nothing is impossible. Give me some time and everything can be arranged.”

Malik crossed his legs and folded his hands on his knees. “You have a bit more than three weeks.”

Bakura spluttered out his coffee and coughed. “Excuse me?!”

“Three weeks.” Malik repeated again. “Not for one dress, but for two dresses for two brides.”

“That’s impossible!”

“You just said it yourself: Nothing is impossible. And the second bride needs a dress as well.” Malik gave him an angelic smile. “So are you going to do it or are you just a big mouth with nothing behind it?”

“Are you challenging me, Ishtar?” Bakura growled at how fast Malik had been able to turn his own words against him.

“Well, did it work?”

Bakura pressed his lips to a thin line and leaned back in his armchair. He needed a moment to think and calculate. His tongue piercing clicked against his teeth as he played with it. “That’s going to cost you.”

“Money’s not an issue at all.” This time, it was Isis who replied while Malik leaned back in his seat, obviously pleased with the outcome.

Bakura scanned Malik and Isis to figure out if they truly meant it. He narrowed his eyes at them, but eventually agreed. “Fine. But I’ll need to start right away.” He addressed Isis again. “I hope neither you nor your fiancée have anything planned for the next few days because I’ll need you to come over quite a few times so I can fit the cutting patterns. I’ll need one of you to come over in the morning and the other one in the afternoon. Or afternoon and evening if you’d prefer that.”

 

\--

 

“Malik, please come with me. This isn’t going to work out if I go there alone again.” Isis begged as she lay half-sprawled across the breakfast table and clung to her coffee mug.

Malik frowned. “Isis, I have to work.”

Isis groaned and buried her face in the crook of her arm. “Malik, please, he shit-talks non-stop and more than any hairdresser I’ve been to so far. I’m going to murder him if no one restrains me and if I kill the tailor before the dresses are done, we’d need to start searching for one from scratch again. Besides, it’s your office day today, isn’t it? Not the garage?” She asked, referring to Malik’s two part-time jobs. “You can take your laptop and work from there. It’s on the way to one of our business partners anyways, so you can just drop by once you’re done with the meeting.”

The blond sighed, but he couldn’t say no to his sister, not when she seemed so desperate. She had gone to Bakura’s studio alone the day before for the fitting of the cutting patterns and she had been more than furious after she had come home. Malik hadn’t understood all of it, but Bakura’s bold attitude didn’t sit well with Isis at all. Meanwhile, Mai had sent selfies with herself and Bakura holding glasses of sparkling wine with the capture “LMAO I LOVE THIS GUY” to their group chat. It had also been Mai who encouraged Isis to try and visit him again. It was a miracle to Malik that Isis had even agreed.

 

[(Source)](https://shadow-chan93.tumblr.com/post/185567887887/part-of-the-tailor-au-chapter-1-isis-hates-their)

 

A few hours later, Malik walked down the street with a coffee in one hand and his laptop bag in the other. The meeting had gone well, so he was in a good mood. The doorbell announced his arrival and he quickly greeted Isis who stood atop the podium with a mock-up dress pinned around her. Bakura buzzed around her doing some adjustments to the dress, his heels clicking loudly on the floor with each step.

“Finally!” Isis exclaimed, already visibly at the end of her nerves. “What took you so long?”

Bakura’s face lit up as well. He stemmed his hands on his hips and grinned proudly. “There you are! What do you say? I think I did a great job with the shape so far.”

“Yeah, looks good.” Malik scanned the dress briefly. The shape suited Isis very nicely indeed, but the final outcome was still somewhat hard to imagine. The edges were still a bit untidy as well, but this was only the mock-up dress anyways. They’d see how it looked like once Bakura started to work with the actual fabric.

More so than Isis’ dress, Malik noticed Bakura’s outfit. Malik had already been warned beforehand by Isis and Mai that Bakura didn’t give a single fuck about ‘the norm’, but he still felt slightly confused when he saw Bakura sporting a quite short, shiny leather skirt and a billowy blouse combined with dark tights and a pair of stilettos.

Bakura’s grin widened when he caught Malik staring. “Like what you see?”

“I’m not so sure if I should like it or not.”

“Well, I surely do like it. Looks good on me, don’t you think?” He ran his hand up his own butt and laughed before he continued to decorate the dress with pins and markings.

Isis gave Malik a look that said ‘see and this is why I’m going to murder him if you leave us alone’.

Malik rolled his eyes and didn’t comment any further. He decided to just sit down, power up his laptop and then get to work. However, he found himself getting a little bit distracted. Bakura had been right. He did look damn good in that.

 

#  **Bonus  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot what plot? There is no plot. Only a bowl with lemons. (I'm sorry if it sounds cringy, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing lmao XD)  
> Also... warning for piercings? Idk does that need a warning? I mean it's already in the tags...  
> Also, from this point onwards, all Bonus sections are just pure crack that for one reason or the other I didn't want to include into the real story.

#  **Chapter 2**

 

The next few days, in his breaks from work, Malik found himself passing by Bakura’s shop whenever Isis had another appointment scheduled. As moral support for his sister, of course. Not because he had a liking for a certain white haired bastard. However, Malik couldn’t deny that it was amazing to watch him work and how the dress slowly started to take up shape and look better and better with each session. Isis was also a lot more positive about her tailor visits once she started to see the first gorgeous results, even if that meant she’d have to deal with ‘the insolent asshole’ more often than she preferred.

Malik and Bakura had fallen into a habit of bickering over the smallest things. Their constant back and forth came surprisingly easy as their chatter filled the room. Isis groaned and rubbed her temples. Malik had the slight suspicion that she already started to regret ever asking him to come along. She had tried to convince him to stay home, but he’d insisted on ‘keeping her company’.

Malik tilted his head as he watched Bakura work. “Isn’t that uncomfortable? I wouldn’t even be able to sit in those pants and you crawl around with them to cut and sew the hems.”

Bakura flicked his ponytail over his shoulder. “Bitch, I’m a professional tailor. I need to look fabulous.”

“Still, wouldn’t it be smarter to wear something more practical?” Malik frowned. He didn’t really mind Bakura’s pants. Not at all. In fact, they might even be just a bit too distracting.

“Says the one whose eyeliner is still on fleek even after a day of work in the garage.” Bakura deadpanned without missing a beat.

“At least _I_ look into a mirror when I put my makeup on.”

“Well, _you_ certainly didn’t look into a mirror when you combined that shirt with those pants. Seriously the colours are totally clashing, absolute no-go!”

“And can you stop eyeing up my sister’s ass?”

“Well, I can also NOT sew the fabric shut over her ass and she’ll be running around with a gigantic hole on her bum if you’d prefer that?”

Malik blinked at Bakura. He started to chuckle and it soon grew into loud laughter. It was good to have someone who was on par with him. The blond had always had good people skills and it barely took him any effort to charm others and coax them to get whatever he wanted. However, Malik had grown bored by them. Didn’t they have a mind of their own? Why were they all so easily influenced? Bakura, on the other hand, didn’t take any of his shit. He was loud and talked back and Malik wasn’t used to that at all. It was refreshing to have someone who didn’t shy away from expressing their own opinion and to have someone with whom Malik could have some banter for fun. That and his otherwise unique personality made Bakura interesting to say the least.

“Guys! Less flirting, more dress sewing, please!” Isis reminded them when she felt that they got too absorbed by their petty little arguments again. She inhaled deeply to calm herself down. The others’ banter got on her nerves terribly, especially if it was about _her_ bottom.  

“We’re not flirting!” Malik huffed and crossed his arms.

Isis raised an eyebrow at them.

“As if I’d ever be flirting with Count Dracula!” Malik laughed in reference to Bakura’s current choice of clothing: tight leather pants and a wide blouse with ruffles similar to what the generic vampires wore in all kinds of movies.

Bakura put his hand over his heart in fake despair. “Now see what you did! You’ve hurt the Count’s feelings!” He cackled and continued on Isis’ dress.

Malik shrugged and smirked. “I’m a creature of the day and I enjoy the sun way too much. What would I ever want to do with a creature of the night?”

Isis saw Bakura already inhaled for another stupid reply and cut him short. “Don’t you even dare come up with a stupid vampire pun that includes sucking and my brother.”

Bakura stared at her for a short moment and then closed his mouth again because, yes, this was exactly what he had wanted to say and Isis looked so pissed off that even he didn’t want to upset her any further. Even he knew that Isis had her limit of bullshit she’d take per day and afterwards no one should mess with her anymore.

Isis muttered under her breath. “More like Cunt Dracula if you ask me.”

Shocked Malik gaped at Isis. He had barely heard her use swear words before, but maybe over four hours exposure to their bitching during the current session had been enough to drive her crazy.

Bakura blinked his eyes in surprise and then burst out into hysterical laughter. “You know what, Ishtar? I’m starting to like your sister.”

\--

The rest of the week had been just as busy as the start of it. At least Mai and Rishid had been successful on their hunt for a new venue, together with Amir. Aside from that, Kaiba Corp. wanted to strike up a new deal with Ishtar Enterprises, so even a weekend shift had been required.

Usually Malik only worked for their family business part-time nowadays. He hated the job from the very beginning, but he had been raised to lead it one day by his strict father with no other options to choose from. As soon as the old man died, Malik had withdrawn from the company to find out what he really wanted to do. He knew his skillset was still needed in their family business and so, he had agreed to be available for help on a part-time basis while he spent the rest of his time working as a mechanic in a garage. The work in the garage was fun and he enjoyed the craftsmanship. It was a lot more satisfying to look at something he had built or repaired with his own hands at the end of the day than to come back home from meeting after meeting with people whom he didn’t even give a damn about.

On the other hand, the job in the garage could also be hard physical work sometimes. Combined with the extra shifts in the family business that Malik had agreed to in order to relieve Isis of some of her duties during the wedding preparations, it was exhausting.

After working most of Saturday as well, Malik finally came home in the evening. He felt tense and on edge and he knew he needed to vent somehow. Fortunately, Mai came home just in time to offer him a free VIP ticket for her otherwise rather expensive nightclub. A little thank you for all his help, she said. She recommended that he go and dance all the tension off in a relaxed atmosphere. Malik pondered about it for a brief moment. He hadn’t been out clubbing for a while and he had to admit the idea sounded quite appealing.

Rishid didn’t really look surprised when Malik passed the living room in his clubbing outfit to say goodbye for the evening not much later.

“Am I right when I assume you won’t be back anymore before tomorrow noon?” Rishid scanned Malik’s attire and raised an eyebrow.

“… Do I look that needy?” Malik deadpanned at him.

Rishid’s eyebrow rose higher and an amused smile tugged at his lips.

Malik huffed and took a look in the closest mirror. What? He didn’t look a lot more different than usual. His hair was freshly washed and styled; alright, maybe a bit more styled than usual. And it might just be that he also wore a bit more kohl than usual, but fuck it, it looked good. Same with the highlighter that gave his skin a nice glow. Okay, maybe his top was a bit too midriff-revealing and he had gone a bit overboard with the jewelry, but so what? It just went well with the tight leather pants he had chosen to wear tonight. On second thought, yeah, no wonder Rishid didn’t expect him to come home tonight after all. It really looked like Malik was out to hunt for a hook-up.

Malik frowned at his own image and shrugged. Actually, why not? If any good chance arose, he wouldn’t turn it down tonight. Besides, he could use some good distraction to get a certain tailor out of his head.

Malik turned back to Rishid and gave him a sly smile. “No, probably not. Don’t wait for me with breakfast either.”

Rishid chuckled and turned his attention back to his book. “Have fun and take care of yourself, habibi.”

By the time Malik arrived at the club, the queue in front of it was already quite long. With a smirk on his lips, Malik strode past it and flashed his VIP ticket to the abouncers. They’d met before at previous functions Mai hosted and they had a small chat before Malik proceeded to go inside. His first stop was the cloakroom to get rid of his jacket. His second stop was at the bar where he treated himself with a scotch on the rocks. Leisurely, he sipped on his drink while he scanned the dancefloor for any familiar faces. He didn’t see anyone he knew so far. Maybe he’d just have to make a few new acquaintances tonight.

The beat of the music was getting to him quite fast and he couldn’t wait to merge with the crowd of lithe, sweaty bodies on the dancefloor. Malik finished his first drink quickly so he could do just that. The bass and drum vibrated heavily through the room and Malik fell into an easy rhythm with the other writhing people around him. With fluid motions, he started to move to the music and tossed his hair over his shoulder.

For the time being, he danced alone, sometimes giving small smiles to others, but for now he hadn’t spotted anyone worth of his interest just yet. A few people had tried to approach Malik, but none of them met his taste. Knowing he had people’s attention on himself pleased him incredibly though.

“Enjoying yourself, Ishtar?”

\--

“Thanks, bud!” Bakura shot the bouncers with finger guns. For some reason they’d let him pass without waiting in line and they had even given him one of the VIP tapes around his wrist. Maybe Mai had put him on the guest list? Well, whatever it was, Bakura didn’t care. He got in and that was all that mattered.

As Bakura entered the club, loud music greeted him and the beat drummed through the room. The music wasn’t quite his taste, but it’d surely work for now, Bakura thought. He bee-lined for the bar and started to look for the reason why he’d come here in the first place. Thank the Gods for Mai and her hint on where to find Malik outside of their tailor sessions when his guard dog of a sister wouldn’t be there to watch over him.

Eventually, Bakura spotted Malik on the dancefloor and holy hell, that was a sight to behold. Malik’s hair shimmered almost as golden as his jewelry did. Bakura’s gaze went lower to his purple sleeveless leather vest that ended over his belly button and revealed a strip of copper skin. The pants matched the top and emphasized Malik’s figure. The outfit reminded Bakura a little bit of a cowboy, a rather gay cowboy. It was gorgeous. Bakura caught himself staring. He shook his head and slipped off the seat at the bar.

A grin spread on Bakura’s face. He grabbed his drink and maneuvered through the swaying crowd, careful not to spill any of the alcohol. Bakura chuckled when Malik was so entranced by his own dance that he didn’t even notice Bakura sneaking up close.

“Enjoying yourself, Ishtar?” Bakura called over the loud music once he was close enough.

\--

Malik’s first thought upon seeing Bakura was _hot damn_ and the second was that Mai had probably set them up. Why else would she give both of them free VIP tickets for the same evening? Oh, she was definitely going to get an earful once he got home.

“Oh great. Isn’t pestering me at your shop enough already? Do you have to come and annoy me in my free time now as well?” Malik smirked and moved to the side to give Bakura some space and invite him to dance. Bakura wasn’t annoying, not really. If anything, Malik actually appreciated his company right now. At least now he’d have an interesting someone to talk to. A weird buzzing feeling spread out in Malik’s stomach when he realized this was the first time he could actually be alone with his favorite tailor without any of his family around.  

“Well, that’s what I do best, sunshine. Besides, it’s _you_ who always comes to _my_ shop anyways.”  Bakura shrugged and stuck out his pierced tongue to him.

He looked good tonight. He had left his elegant tailor attire at home and gone for a rockstar look with his band logo tank top, skinny ripped jeans, jumper boots and diverse accessories. His hair was up in a ponytail and shone brightly in the UV light. And hot damn, that piercing. Malik wondered what it’d be like to kiss him with that for a brief moment, but he shook the thought off again. It was still a bit too early for that. Maybe later…

Malik wanted to compliment Bakura on his outfit, but as always when trying to talk to the asshole, it turned into an insult within a matter of seconds. “And what the hell are you doing here looking like a punk?”

Bakura lifted his hands in defence. “Alright, I’m sorry, Heath Ledger. I didn't recognise you without another cowboy between your legs."

“Just for the record, I’m a biker, not a cowboy. There’s a difference!” Malik huffed and crossed his arms. He glanced away, hoping Bakura wouldn’t see the slight blush that had appeared on Malik’s cheeks.

Bakura snorted and waved it off. “You’re both riding off into the sunset, same thing. Now, are you going to buy me a drink or not?”

Malik laughed and pointed at the cup in Bakura’s hand. “Nice try, but I’d say you’ve still got more than enough.”

Bakura shrugged and then proceeded to empty the whole drink in one go. He then raised his eyebrow and empty drink silently.

Malik raised his eyebrow as well and met Bakura’s smirk with one of his own. “Well, in that case, I guess we’ll need to get more booze.”

Bakura let out a hum of approval when he followed Malik to the bar again. They were lucky to find two free seats together at the right-hand side. Their arms brushed against each other as they sat down and Malik could swear he saw a faint pink blush appear on Bakura’s cheeks. That was adorable. Maybe Malik should tease him a little bit more.

They made their order and started off with a few shots. Moments later another scotch on the rocks and a pint of beer, probably an IPA, slid over to them.

Malik tasted his drink while he watched Bakura sip the foam of his. “Funny. I somehow imagined you to be more of the Cosmopolitan type of guy.”

“I might be gay as fuck, but I know my ale, Ishtar.” Bakura snorted. “Besides, there’s nothing better than a cool blonde after a long day of work.”

“A cool blonde, hm?” Malik chuckled. He leaned over and traced a finger softly down Bakura’s leg. “Well, I can’t offer a cold blonde, but how about this hot blond right here instead?”

Bakura looked a bit surprised at Malik’s sudden boldness. Malik himself didn’t even know where it had come from. He could blame the alcohol, but he knew that was only half true. Teasing Bakura was just too much fun and Malik briefly wondered how he’d react to a different kind of teasing. And that’s when he decided he wouldn’t go home alone that night.

Bakura wet his lips as he stared at Malik. “My, my, Ishtar you bastard, that was smoother than a fine ale. Going into the offensive now, are you?”  

Malik smirked again and nodded to the dancefloor. “You up for another dance after we finish our drinks?”

The sparkle in Bakura’s eyes and the grin plastered on his face said sure as hell he was. They were on the dancefloor again a few minutes later, stealing the spotlight. Colourful mist filled the room as the fog machines powered on and the disco lights flared around them.

The first songs were fast and finally, Malik could feel the tension leaving his body as he laughed and danced together with Bakura. Perhaps he should thank Mai instead of giving her an earful tomorrow. She had been right; this was a good idea.

Bakura made a turn, giving Malik a nice view of his backside. The way he swayed his hips from side to side and the way his top rode up when he raised his arms above his head looked too tempting not to touch. Malik reached out and carefully brushed his hands over the bits of exposed skin above Bakura’s belt line. He felt the other man quiver under his touch. Bakura glanced backwards over his shoulder and grinned again when Malik moved in to dance closer. Malik skimmed his hands over Bakura’s sides and hips while Bakura reached back to comb his hand through Malik’s soft locks and pulled him even closer.

“You know, maybe I lied. You’re not really annoying.” Malik grinned against Bakura’s skin as he nuzzled his neck and inhaled his cologne.

Bakura sucked in a sharp breath when Malik’s hot breath tickled his neck. Both of them let out a little groan when Bakura instinctively ground his hips into Malik’s crotch in response.

 

 

[ (Source)](https://shadow-chan93.tumblr.com/post/185731348767/chapter-2-of-my-tailor-au-is-up)

 

Malik spun him around again. Facing each other now, Malik pulled Bakura close and slipped his arms around the small of Bakura’s back while Bakura wrapped his around Malik’s neck. Bodies pressed together, they panted as they moved together with the crowd in rhythm to the music.

“You up for some fun tonight?” Malik leaned in close again, so Bakura could feel his breath warm on his skin.

Bakura raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Bitch, I’m always up for some fun. Get it on.”

Malik lidded his eyes and a smirk tugged at his lips before he closed the distance between them in a fiery kiss. Bakura tasted of ale, but his lips were soft and the metal barbell decorating his tongue was an interesting addition to their game.

Clawing at each other, they stumbled off the dancefloor and towards one of the darker corners. They crashed on one of the couches in a lounge, earning some angry scowls by the people who’d been sitting there before, but neither of the two cared.

Malik started to kiss down Bakura’s throat and playfully bit him, to which Bakura responded with a low moan and a hitch of his hips. He hooked one of his legs around Malik’s waist, inviting him to rake his hands along it.

“Ok, your place or mine?” Bakura panted between soft moans while Malik attacked his throat with more kisses and playful bites.

Breathing heavily, Malik pulled back. He ran a hand through his mussed up hair. “Yours. Let’s go.”

They scrambled off the couch and towards the exit. Something at the back of Malik’s mind told him they had forgotten to retrieve their coats from the cloakroom, but it was hot, they were hot and he couldn’t care less right now.

Bakura’s home was only a short cab ride away from the club. Turned out, he lived in the apartment over his tailor studio. They took the side entrance and for a short moment Malik thought they wouldn’t even make it through the corridor with the way they were clinging to each other. Eventually, they did and Bakura pounced at Malik as soon as the door was closed behind them. Hoisted against the wall, Bakura wrapped his legs around Malik’s waist again. His right hand fumbled along the wall until he found the handle to open the door to the bedroom.

Malik took the hint to lift him off the wall and carry him the few steps towards the bed where he unceremoniously dropped him. Bakura sprawled across the bed in front of him was quite a sight. He licked his lips in anticipation and crawled over him.

Malik purred as he nuzzled Bakura’s neck and slipped one hand underneath Bakura’s shirt to caress his stomach. He slid the shirt up so his thumb could run over Bakura’s right nipple. Bakura gave a throaty moan and arched his back into Malik’s touch.

Suddenly, Bakura reversed their positions, now sitting straddled on top of Malik. He bent down to steal another kiss from Malik’s lips before he rose back up and made a show of peeling his own shirt off. With his hair tie now removed as well, his bright hair cascaded down his shoulders like liquid silver.

Malik’s pupils dilated with lust and his hands instinctively grabbed a hold of Bakura’s hips as he rolled them and ground their cocks together through the fabric. His fingers found the buckle of Bakura’s belt and he gave it a slight tug. Bakura nodded. He rolled off Malik and onto his back, so the blond could remove his pants in one swift motion.

Bakura’s already hard cock sprung free the moment his pants were removed and Malik’s mouth ran dry for a second. Apparently, his tongue and ears weren’t the only body parts Bakura had pierced. “Didn’t that hurt like hell?!”

Bakura laughed. “Oh, like fuck it did!”

Malik gaped at it for a moment. “… Can I touch it?”

“No.” Bakura deadpanned at him for a short second. “Dude, yes. Why do you think I brought you here-AH!” His voice pitched up when Malik got his hands on his cock and thumbed the tip around the barbells.

Malik felt all of his blood rushing downwards and the constraints of his own pants suddenly made him aware that he was still fully clothed. His lover for the night let out a whine when Malik removed his hand from his dick to get rid of his own pants. Bakura’s hands found the zipper of Malik’s vest to open that as well and his hands skimmed over Malik’s broad chest. However, as Bakura tried to pull the top off, Malik grabbed his wrist and shook his head as a silent no. Thankfully, Bakura accepted his decision as it was and didn’t ask any further questions.

Bakura reclined back into the pillows with his long hair splayed all around him. His eyes darkened by want, he looked Malik up and down and his hands moved down his own body until he found he cock. He teased and toyed with himself as Malik did the same in front of him.

Malik licked his lips as he stroked his own hard cock. “Alright, how do you want this, loverboy?”

“Oh, believe me. I’m more than fine with this arrangement.” Bakura stated as he glanced down at himself, sprawled across the bed on his back with his legs spread wide, Malik kneeling between them with his thick member in hand.

A smirk spread across Malik’s face as he let out an appreciative hum. “Good. I hoped you’d say that.” He retrieved a condom from the pocket of his discarded trousers, tore the package and rolled it down his cock.

Meanwhile, Bakura retrieved the lube from the nightstand. Too impatient to wait until Malik was done, he started to prep himself. Malik batted his hand away and inserted one of his own lube covered fingers instead, making Bakura cry out in pleasure. When Malik added a second and then a third finger, Bakura’s breathing grew ragged. Panting, he growled and moaned loudly with each of Malik’s movements, his nails raking across the sheets next to him.

Bakura’s cries went straight to Malik’s cock, making it twitch in anticipation. He added an additional layer of lube to his cock and guided himself to Bakura’s slicked rim. The tailor gave him a brief nod and both of them moaned as Malik pushed in. “Holy fuck!” Malik cursed underneath his breath.

After a moment to adjust, Malik gave his hips an experimental roll. Impatient, Bakura hitched his hips up, his body asking for more. The blond adjusted his lover’s leg and hooked it over his shoulder before he started to fuck him at an easy pace. It was hard to keep it slow though as Bakura’s ecstatic cries urged Malik on and on until he sped up. Bakura arched his back and his gorgeous hair splayed out behind him on the pillow.

Malik’s lube slick hand found Bakura’s throbbing erection and, as he stroked him in rhythm to his thrusts, more delighted sounds and several profanities escaped Bakura’s lips. It didn’t take long for Bakura to also start screaming Malik’s name into the night like an invocation. An animalistic growl came from Malik as he pounded into Bakura’s ass and called out his name as well.

With the speed they were going at, they wouldn’t be able to last long. With another high pitched scream, Bakura spilled hot over Malik’s hand and onto his stomach. Not much later, Malik shook with his own orgasm. He rode it out and collapsed on top of Bakura who now clung to his shoulders while trying to catch his breath.

A low content chuckle rumbled through Bakura’s throat, reminding Malik a little bit of a purr. Malik sank into Bakura’s warmth, noticing how much he had missed physical contact recently. He had enough mind left to pull out and toss the used condom into the bin and wipe both of them down with some Kleenex before they both passed out for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Malik awoke with his face buried in Bakura’s moonlight hair and with his arms wrapped around the other’s waist. Bakura grumbled and pulled the blanket over his head when Malik stirred.

“Hangover?” Malik asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up.

Bakura peeked out from underneath his blanket and gave a brief nod. “Bathroom’s on the opposite side of the hallway. Feel free to use the shower. Towels are in the cabinet next to the sink.” He cleared his throat to get the hoarseness out of his voice and stretched. “What time is it anyways?”

“Around half past ten.”

Bakura groaned loudly again and pressed his palms on his eyes. “Shit.”

Malik had already gotten up from bed and collected his clothes. He halted in his movement and tilted his head. “What?”

A sheepish guilty grin appeared on Bakura’s face. “Your sister’s gonna be here for another session in probably less than half an hour. You might want to hurry up in the bathroom.”

Malik’s mouth fell open and his voice pitched up in panic. “ON A SUNDAY?!”

“You were the one who only gave me three weeks for two dresses, man! What did you expect?!”

“SHIT.”

\--

Malik sat on the armchair in the lounge with his face in his hand when Isis entered the shop. The shrill jingle of the doorbell was poison to his throbbing headache.

“Malik? What are you doing here already?” Surprised, Isis stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted him. He must’ve been quite a sight, completely trashed as he was with his wet hair in a bun, traces of smudged kohl still around his eyes and one of Bakura’s baggy hoodies that wasn’t quite as baggy on Malik.

“Uuuh, well… I heard you had an appointment here and I was close by, so I came to keep you company.” The blond gave her an angelic smile.

Isis raised an eyebrow and deadpanned at him. “Malik, please tell me you did not bed the tailor.“

Malik’s smile turned into a guilty one. Bakura’s trademark hyena laughter, though a bit more hoarse than usual, echoed through the back of the studio.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Unimpressed, Isis stared at her brother. “Why am I not even surprised about this?”

During the session, both men were quieter than usual, Bakura trying to do a good job despite his hangover and Malik just trying to somehow survive his own hangover.

“What’s wrong you two? Why are you so quiet today?” Isis chirped loudly.

Bakura, who was kneeling next to her to stitch the seam, winced. “Not so loud!”

“Your own fault for getting wasted last night, I’d say.” Isis laughed. It looked like it was payback time for all the times they had annoyed and unnerved her before and with a grin, she made a point of talking much more and as loud as she could.

 

##  **Bonus:**

Mai: *sits on the bed, watching the footage of the surveillance camera of her club on her iPad* *chuckles*

Isis: *sitting in front of her dresser and combing her hair* What’s so funny?

Mai: oh nothing, nothing really.

The next day:

Isis: …. I can’t believe my brother shacked up with the tailor

Mai: *breaks out into hysterical laughter*

Isis: …… you had something to do with it, didn’t you?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of domestic abuse when the topic of Malik's scars comes up, but nothing graphical. I didn't put it into the tags because it's nothing graphical and it's only one occasion where it's mentioned which is this chapter. If you still think I should tag it in the story tags, let me know.
> 
> Also, from this point onwards it is safe to assume that all Bonus sections are 100% crack.

#  **Chapter 3**

 

Malik was en route to the laundry shop when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Isis asking him for help once more. Her meetings had taken longer than anticipated and the whole schedule for her day got messed up. Malik promised he’d try to take care of a few things and sighed at the load of extra work he’d have to do. He checked the clock on his phone. Still one hour left until he had to be at the garage, so maybe he could pass by Bakura’s place and cancel Isis’ current appointment in person. The tailor shop was almost on the way anyways. 

Walking down the street, Malik could see Bakura climbing around in the display window to clean it. He was about to readjust the mannequins with the dress and the tuxedo and hadn’t noticed Malik’s presence yet. 

Malik lifted his hand to knock against the glass panel to draw Bakura’s attention to him, but something made him hold back. Maybe it was the bittersweet, almost melancholic look on Bakura’s face as he softly ran his fingers over the dress to rid it of unwanted folds. It was an expression he hadn’t seen on the other yet, sad but strangely beautiful. Bakura was supposed to be loud and sassy and snarky. Seeing him like this gave Malik the feeling that he shouldn’t interrupt the moment. Perhaps it would be better to go and call him later.

 

 

In that moment, Bakura turned and spotted Malik. He tensed as Malik gave him a sheepish grin. Seconds later, the door to the shop opened and Bakura stepped outside. “Didn’t get enough of me the other night, eh? Are you my stalker now, Ishtar? I’m feeling flattered.”

Malik chuckled, relieved to hear Bakura’s usual snark. “As good as you might look out there in your display, that’s not the reason I’m here. I’m here to let you know Isis won’t make it today. Too much other stuff to do.” 

Bakura grimaced, obviously displeased. He shrugged. “Well, in that case I have time to actually get some decent sleep today.” He gave a sarcastic laugh. His eyes scanned Malik and from the look on Bakura’s face, Malik was almost sure he’d make another dirty suggestion. Suddenly his expression changed and Bakura stared open-mouthed at Malik. “What the flying fuck is that?!”

Malik blinked at him in surprise until he realized the other man meant the garments on his arm. “My suit. I was just about to bring it to the laundry, why?”

Bakura snatched it from him and held it out at arm length to inspect it. His nose wrinkled in disdain. “No way in the seven hells are you going to wear THIS atrocity anywhere close to my dresses. I refuse to let my dresses being worn next to THAT.”

Malik huffed and put his hands on his hips. “Do you have any idea how expensive that was? It’s good.” 

Bakura watched him with a raised eyebrow. He spun on his heel, his asymmetric skirt billowing behind him as he strode inside. Malik grumbled, but followed.

The tailor tossed the suit onto one of the chairs and grabbed Malik’s arm to drag him along. “I’m gonna make you a better one. Now get onto the fucking podium so I can get started.”

Malik protested, but followed without much struggle otherwise. He watched as Bakura came back with the tape and started to measure his arm length. But once Bakura reached his back, Malik tensed up. This was the reason why he had never let anyone custom-make any clothes for him. Usually, he didn’t want anyone close to his back even when his back was still covered with a layer of clothing, too afraid that the person might feel the scarred tissue underneath the fabric. 

The scars themselves stemmed from an argument with his father, back when Malik told him he had no intention of taking over the company and the older man had gone violent on him once again. Malik knew he should have done something against his father’s occasional violent outbursts, but at the time he had been too dependent on him, too afraid and way too blind to realize. Years and years of therapy had helped Malik slowly see that his father’s outbursts hadn’t been Malik’s fault at all, but that his father had been mentally ill and unpredictable. Now, Malik was ashamed of not having noticed how unstable his father had been and of not leaving home earlier. Deep down, he knew it was nothing to be ashamed of, something he had been too young to realize back then, but he still saw his therapist regularly to try to accept it. He was slowly working on it. But, for now, the scars on his back were just the constant reminder of his own weakness marking him for the rest of his life and he felt better when he could hide them from other people’s view.

Next to him, Bakura still grumbled and growled some imaginative curses at ‘the atrocity™’ while taking Malik’s measurements. His flowery choice of insults made Malik laugh. It was enough to take his mind away from his scars and he was able to relax again. 

For some reason, Bakura’s company was comforting and calming. So much so that Malik found the courage to ask for a favour he wouldn’t have asked otherwise. “Can you calculate some extra allowance for my back? I… I’ve got old scars on my back that are easily irritated.” Malik didn’t even know why he had mentioned his scars to Bakura of all people. He tried to tell himself that Bakura would just be able to do a better job if he knew what he was sewing for, but maybe it just felt comforting to talk about it with someone after years of keeping quiet. 

Bakura glanced up at him briefly before he grunted and circled some numbers on his sheet of paper. 

“Not going to ask me about it?” Malik lifted his arms so Bakura could also measure his waist. 

“You keep your back covered all the time and your sister didn’t want her own back exposed in her wedding dress. I figure it’s a thing to you.” Bakura looked up from his notes again, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Do you want me to ask about it?” 

Malik cast his eyes down, his mouth running dry. Did he want him to? Part of his mind screamed yes, but he was afraid to tell the whole story again. “I… no, you’re right. It’s a no-go.” 

Bakura gave a brief nod before he continued his work. 

The tailor worked in silence for a moment and Malik wondered if he did it purposefully to give Malik room to sort out his thoughts or if Bakura was simply caught up in his own mind as well. Malik stretched out his arm to the side so Bakura could take the next measurements. He noticed that Bakura himself also had some scars, one on his left hand and the one on his upper arm, that didn’t appear to be from a simple working accident. Maybe the tailor would be one of the few persons who could understand Malik’s struggle without only meeting him with pity. Malik hated the pity treatment everyone else, including his siblings, had always given him when he mentioned his scars.

“They’re from my father.” Malik heard himself speaking without thinking. He had no idea why the whole story spilled out of him right now, but it did well to get it off his chest with someone other than his therapist. Bakura handled it quite well, too, giving only a few snarky remarks and many words of understanding and courage when Malik needed them without judgement. He also offered him a cup of coffee with a shot, which was actually more a cup of rum with a shot of coffee, to calm his nerves. 

“Thank you. For listening today.” Malik traced the edge of the mug with his finger. 

“Everyone has their own burdens to carry. I know life’s far from easy and bottling up things is never any good.” 

Malik smiled warmly at him. Bakura had no idea how much he had appreciated this. 

“Oh shit!” Malik exclaimed suddenly. “What time is it?” He had totally forgotten his shift at the garage with only fifteen minutes to get there. Malik dashed out the door, Bakura’s laughter following behind. 

\--

The wedding came closer and closer with each passing day and soon only a little bit over one week was left. Amir was frequently passing by Bakura’s shop to let them know of any changes. Malik couldn’t help but smile when he saw that Ryou started to tag along with him at some point. Maybe Mai had had her matchmaking hands in the game again when she sent Amir to sort things out with the wedding cake Ryou was supposed to bake. 

The dresses were coming along very well so far and Amir had done an excellent job to find a venue, florists and a photographer. The venue wasn’t in as central of a location as the old one, but the advantage was that it had a beautiful garden. This meant Isis and Mai could have their pictures taken right there and didn’t need to leave their guests for the photos.  

Today, they had a meeting with the wedding planner and the full family again to discuss what was still left to do. The weather was beautiful with clear sky. They met in Ryou’s café and sat down in the outside area. The atmosphere was relaxed and by now even Isis was convinced of Amir’s event organization skills. 

“So what’s still left to do?” Mai asked as she sipped on her iced caramel latte. 

“We have an appointment with the caterer this evening to test some dishes and choose what we want for the wedding,” Isis reminded her. As always, she had the schedule memorized up to the last detail. “And we’ll need to think up of a seating plan.”

Amir nodded. “Good. You should also remember to go through the playlist with the DJ again a few days prior to the wedding.” 

Mai waved dismissively. “Already did that. It’s one of my regular DJ’s at the club. He knows his job and I’ve had a talk with him to make sure we have a nice cultural mix.” She straightened up and shifted in her seat, so she could call over to the café’s owner. “Ryou, darling, do you have everything you need for the cake?”

Ryou beamed at them while balancing some trays towards another table. “Yes! I’ve had some trouble with some of my suppliers, but Amir was a big help and helped me sort things out. It’ll be a beautiful cake. Don’t worry.” 

“Speaking of, can I have another one of those tarts, Murdercake?” Amir called over his shoulder. It’d already be his third for that day. In his defence, they were small.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough? What happened to your muscle diet?” Ryou chirped cheerfully.

“Today’s cheat day!”

“You can’t always have a cheat day when you visit me!” Ryou laughed light-heartedly. 

Malik lifted his sunglasses and exchanged glances with Mai. Then both of them knowingly smirked up at Ryou. It was adorable how obvious his crush was. 

Ryou noticed and he clutched the now empty tray in front of his chest while his cheeks flared up bright pink. “Uh… I… I’ll go get the cake.” He spun on his heel and ran back inside. Shortly afterwards, his head popped out of the doorway again. “Oh sorry, I forgot to ask. Does anyone else want something more?”

\--

The next afternoon, after his morning shift at the garage, Malik stood in the studio again while Bakura fastened the pieces of fabric around him with some pins. They had resorted back to their usual bickering during which Malik foolishly put his hand on his hip without remembering the pins. He hissed and cursed as the needle stung his finger. 

Bakura snatched Malik’s wrist and closed his mouth around Malik’s finger faster than the blond could react. When he saw Malik gaping at him, he gave the blond’s finger one more deliberately slow lick. “Don’t want any blood on the fabric, do we?” Bakura purred and his face split into a grin.

“Oh Gods, can’t you use that tongue of yours to lick something else instead? – oh shit.” Malik felt his face heating up. He tore his hand away from Bakura’s mouth and facepalmed. “Fuck.” 

Bakura’s hyena laughter filled the room shortly afterwards. “Head to mouth filter no good today, Ishtar?” 

Malik shook his head, but started to laugh as well. “No, not at all right now. Though, how about you put your dirty mouth to good use?”  

Bakura just let out an amused hum as he carefully helped Malik out of the pinned jacket. He placed it on a tailor’s dummy before he made his way past Malik again.

“Are we done with the jacket already?” Malik asked confused as he rolled his shoulders to get the tension out of them. He had honestly expected today’s session to take a lot, lot longer. 

“No, I just don’t want it to get stained.” Bakura looked over his shoulder and stuck his pierced tongue out to Malik as he turned the key in the front door and the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’.

Malik raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Seriously now?” Part of him thought Bakura was only joking, but the other part of him already mentally rolled up his sleeves and thought _hell yes_.

Bakura shrugged and adjusted the room-divider so it blocked the view from the street to the lounge. “You were the one to suggest it in the first place.” He approached Malik with a smirk and nudged him to the couch. “How about you get comfortable while I get us a drink, pretty boy?”

Malik let out a hum and did as he was told. He leaned back and the leather of the seat squelched underneath him as he did so. “Tell me, Bakura. Are you doing this often? Offering blowjobs to your clients?”

“Hmmm no, only to special ones.” Bakura winked at him. The sound of ice cubes hitting glass was heard and moments later, Bakura leaned over the backrest towards Malik, holding a drink towards him. “Cheers.”

 

They clinked their glasses and sipped at the drink. The scotch was smooth. Malik realized Bakura must’ve remembered which booze he preferred in the club. Quite a perceptive guy, wasn’t he?

Within seconds, Bakura sat straddled on Malik’s lap and pressed their lips together in a hot fiery kiss. Malik bucked up and Bakura rolled his hips to grind their crotches together. Gasping, they both broke the kiss. 

Malik gave Bakura a challenging stare and glanced downwards to his pants. “Well? I’m waiting.” 

Bakura held up his index finger to gesture Malik to wait. “After my drink.” He took another big swig, almost emptying the glass completely. With a fluid motion, he slid down from Malik’s lap and hastily tied his hair up in a ponytail with a ribbon from his wrist. Now kneeling in front of him on the floor, Bakura’s hands found Malik’s belt buckle. 

Malik inhaled sharply, feeling the heat already rising in his body with anticipation for what was to come. He lifted his hips just enough for Bakura to pull his pants down to his ankles. The tailor’s right hands found his forming erection and with his left he pushed Malik’s legs further apart. Malik felt his cock throb and harden as Bakura leisurely stroked it. 

For a brief moment, Malik wondered why Bakura took so long to get started or why he didn’t speak. His question was answered a second later when Bakura leaned forward and licked along the length of his shaft. Malik gasped when he realized Bakura had used the ice from the drink to cool the stud in his tongue. The cold metal combined with the warm wetness of his tongue was a unique sensation Malik hadn’t felt before with any of his previous lovers. “Fuck!” 

Bakura brushed his bangs back with his free hand and grinned saucily up at Malik. “Like that?” 

“I’d like less talking, more sucking.” Malik’s hand joined Bakura’s in his hair, holding it out of his face.

“Hmm, so bossy.” A low chuckle rumbled through Bakura’s throat before he licked along the underside of Malik’s cock again. His lips closed around the tip of Malik’s now rock hard cock and Malik watched as Bakura started to bob his head. 

Malik’s breathing sped up, but he had enough self-control not to lose his composure quite yet. Bakura would have to work for that. When the tailor noticed, he changed tactics, alternating between taking him deep and sucking on his head. With each bob, he stroked the metal barbell softly over the sensitive underside of Malik’s cock and with each suck, he rolled it over the tip. 

“Oh Gods!” Malik moaned loudly, his composure gone by now and his hands fisting Bakura’s hair and pulling on it to control his speed. Bakura growled lowly and the vibrations from his throat went directly to Malik’s cock in his mouth. 

Malik’s breathing grew ragged as Bakura went on, picking up the pace. His soft huffs and moans urged Bakura on to eagerly take him to the base. Malik had no idea how long they continued, but he felt himself spiralling towards climax fast. “Bakura! I’m gonna come!” he warned between gasps.

Bakura relaxed his jaw and allowed Malik to buck forward, swallowing his come and allowing him to ride out his orgasm. He swallowed with a cough and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaned forward and rested his arms on Malik’s knees. With his pupils dilated from arousal, he smirked up at him. “I hope this ‘dirty mouth of mine’ lived up to your expectations, Ishtar.” 

Malik stared down at the man between his knees with dark eyes clouded by lust. His hand shot out and grabbed Bakura by the collar of his button-up shirt. He yanked him up and roughly shoved him onto the couch next to him. 

Bakura squeaked in surprise and then chuckled lowly. “Seems like someone liked my blowjob.”

“Shut up and let me return the favour.” Malik growled playfully at him, his hands already hungrily tearing at Bakura’s clothes. No matter that Malik had already finished, he could still enjoy the sight of Bakura becoming all undone before him. He popped the button of Bakura’s jeans and pulled them off quickly with his boxers.

Bakura’s chest rose and sank with heavy breaths and the long hair of his ponytail sprawled across the back of the couch. His cock lay on his belly, already hard from giving Malik head, his piercing glinting in the overhead light. 

The blond crawled over him and pushed Bakura’s shirt up as well, so he could place light kisses down his stomach. Malik felt Bakura’s skin shiver below each of his touches and he savoured every minute of it. He kissed down Bakura’s groin and inner thigh. The tailor sucked in a sharp breath when Malik drew closer to his cock, but he wouldn’t touch it just yet. Instead, he circled his kisses around it, his thumb softly caressing the sensitive skin on Bakura’s inner thigh.

“You’re a fucking tease, Ishtar.” Bakura snarled down at him.  

In response, Malik licked along the length of Bakura’s cock and then softly blew on the patches of wet skin drawing a loud, surprised moan from his lover. Bakura had made a mistake in letting Malik finish before him. Now Malik had all the time he wanted to play with him and he was so looking forward to explore Bakura’s second piercing soon. He grinned up at him and winked. “Well, what can I say? I guess you’re right.” 

Malik licked up Bakura's shaft again, flicking his tongue against the sensitive underside of Bakura's head between the metal barbells. Bakura’s voice pitched higher and his hips hitched up again the moment he did. The blond smiled against the tip of Bakura's cock and hummed in approval, making sure Bakura would feel the vibrations. He placed one of his hands on Bakura’s hip to hold him down and kissed down his member again. At the bottom, he gave his balls a broad lick as well, softly blowing at the wet skin. He kissed upwards and finally swallowed his whole length. Malik started to bob his head, lips sliding up and down his shaft. He swirled his tongue around the head of Bakura’s cock, giving his piercing a soft flick, and hollowed out his cheeks as he applied suction.

“Holy shit!” Bakura tried to hold back another loud moan by biting into his own fist. It was futile and, not much later, Bakura was screaming, lost to pleasure as Malik worked his cock. 

Under Malik’s hold, Bakura thrashed and quivered. He called out one last warning before he came hot into Malik’s mouth with a shiver. 

\--

Once they were cleaned up and their clothes righted, Malik stood atop the podium again so they could continue the fitting. He was still feeling giddy from the afterglow. For now, he couldn’t be happier. Next to him, Bakura must’ve felt the same as he was lowly humming while doing his work. Neither of them spoke for quite a while, something rare to happen. Malik wanted to talk, but for once, he didn’t want to bicker. Yet he had a question burning on his tongue, something he’d thought about for a few days.

“The dress in the display window.” He said as he nodded towards it. “It’s yours, isn’t it?” 

Bakura froze in place and narrowed his eyes at Malik. “It is. Why?”

“I didn’t really think you were the type who’d ever even want to marry. You seem more like free spirit to me.” 

“Well, do you see a ring anywhere on my finger? No, you don’t.” Bakura snapped.

Malik winced. He knew Bakura was often a bad-mood, sarcastic asshole, but this time he seemed to be truly upset. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.” 

“Bastard dumped me a week before the wedding.” Bakura punched the needle a bit too hard into the fabric, making Malik jump as it grazed his skin. He mouthed a ‘sorry’ that he absolutely didn’t mean. “I’m gonna show that son of a bitch how sharp my scissors can be next time I see him.” To demonstrate his point, he snipped one of the loose threads hanging from Malik’s vest. 

“Ok, ok, I get it. Sore topic. I’m not gonna mention it again.” Malik flinched and held his hands up in surrender. 

“I’m done with relationships for now.” Bakura tossed the scissors onto the chair with a bit more force than necessary and turned to get some more pins from the desk. He looked at Malik again. “Listen, we’ve had some good fun. Very good fun. But that’s all it was. Fun. Got it? I’m not interested in dating anyone anymore, so don’t get any weird ideas.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m not really a relationship person either. Being tied down gives me anxiety.” Malik shrugged. He really didn’t mind the arrangement. In fact, having an arrangement like this without the usual responsibilities and obligations that came with a romantic relationship sounded quite appealing, if not thrilling to say the least. It did sadden him though to see how hurt Bakura still was over his past, even if he tried not to let it show. 

“Good. Then we’re cool?” Bakura asked, still standing next to the desk with his supplies.

Malik chuckled. “Sure.”

Bakura gave a small grunt in return and the tension visibly left his shoulders again. He gathered all the stuff he needed and returned to Malik again. He continued his work in silence for a few moments, but the quiet didn’t hold very long. “The tux’s mine, too.”

“Oh? Couldn’t decide what to wear?”

“Exactly! How should I know weeks in advance if I’d feel more like wearing a dress or a suit on that day?! So I made both.” Bakura laughed. 

Glad Bakura could laugh again, Malik chuckled along. The blond tilted his head as he watched Bakura circle around him. “Actually… do you want me to switch pronouns when you wear dresses or skirts?”

Bakura raised an eyebrow and mused over it for a moment. “I never thought about it honestly. I don’t really give a single fuck about what people call me. The only things I’m labelling are the price tags in my shop. For now, just call me whatever the fuck you want. I’ll let you know if I ever figure out a preference.” He tapped his chin in thought. “Actually, do you think Ryou might have a problem with how I run around? You know, crossdressing?” 

Malik blinked his eyes in surprise. Bakura usually wasn’t the type to be considerate, but maybe even he had enough brains to know when to behave sometimes. He had a valid point too. As they’d all gotten to know each other, Ryou had shared he had finished transitioning somewhat recently. Fortunately, Ryou wasn’t one to be quirked out over other people’s appearances as long as they respected his own choices. “Nah. I don’t think he’ll mind as long as you don’t make any negative comments about the topic. But I can ask again just to be sure.”

“Good, do that. But, don’t tell him I cared. Can’t lose my reputation after all.” Bakura cackled. He placed the last needle for that day and helped Malik out of the vest. 

Malik checked the clock. Even with their little distraction earlier, they had finished the session a bit earlier than anticipated. Malik had planned to organize Isis’ and Mai’s wedding gift together with Rishid that evening. Rishid would pass by after he was done at work and together they’d go to town. Until then, Malik would have to wait. 

Coffee in hand, Malik followed Bakura to the back of the studio where he kept all of his works in progress. He leaned against the door frame as they chatted to pass the time. 

“Is that Mai’s?” He tilted his head as he watched Bakura working on another one of the dresses. It wasn’t quite white, more of a pale pastel tone and, in contrast to Isis’ dress, it was short, probably barely reaching the middle of the woman’s thighs. “Looks like the corset would be her thing.”

Yep!” Bakura held it up for him to see. “I wasn’t so sure about the rose colour at first, but she definitely rocks the misty rose look. Girl could wear a potato sack and still be gorgeous.”

 

#  **Bonus**

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, this chapter is more like a filler to pass some time before the wedding starts and also to tie up some lose ends.

#  **Chapter 4**

 

Until now, Malik had only seen Isis in her dress and it looked more and more stunning on her with each appointment. Now curious how Mai would look like in hers as well, he decided to tag along for her next meeting in the evening two days later.

Patiently, Malik sat in the lounge and waited for Mai to be done dressing up and for Bakura to adjust each detail on it. It had been a long day for him and despite all efforts, Malik caught himself getting lost in thought and almost dozing off at some point. 

“Hey, Malik. Check this out! How does the ass look like?” Mai suddenly called over. She wore the short base dress without the train and the corset was tightly fastened around her chest.

“Great!” Malik called out, startled to be ripped out of his thoughts. Though, he had to admit, maybe it hadn’t been Mai’s bottom he’d been looking at. 

“… NOT BAKURA’s! I meant mine! In the dress!” Mai deadpanned at him, sending Bakura into roaring a fit of laughter. 

Malik smiled guiltily. “Sorry. Show me again?”

Mai stemmed her hands on her hips. “Malik Ishtar, you are the worst shopping assistant ever! Bakura, tell me my ass looks great!”

Bakura hummed lowly. “Oh sugartits, you’ll have the most fabulous ass at the wedding-“

“Thank you!”

“-directly after mine.” Bakura finished his sentence with one of his trademark smirks.

 “You’re both terrible shopping assistants.” Mai deadpanned at him and they all shared a good laugh. 

Bakura circled around Mai and nodded in approval before he went to get the train. It took a while to adjust the train as long and flowy as it was as it dragged behind her, reminding Malik of an extravagant, folded peacock tail with a lot of shiny shinestones at its tips. Mai also got a matching veil which she quickly fastened in her hair with the comb-like clip. 

Malik got up from his seat as well, walking around her to take a look. She looked beautiful in her gown and Malik was amazed by how well Bakura could transfer her personality to the dress, sassy yet still classy and elegant. The gown was glittery and just as flashy as its wearer was. “You look amazing! You’re gonna make my sister cry.”

“I hope not. I don’t want makeup stains on my dresses.” Bakura commented.

“She’s a strong woman; she’ll handle it.” Mai waved her hand at them, but she couldn't help but grin widely at Malik's compliment.

She looked down herself and Bakura led her over to the mirror. “My work is done. The dress is finished.” He grinned proudly at her.

The bride-to-be let out a squeal and excitedly hopped up and down in the mirror like a little child who got her Christmas presents early. “If Isis’ dress is only half as pretty as this, I think I’m gonna be the one to cry at my own wedding! Heck, I already feel like shedding tears of joy right now!”

Mai flung her arms around Bakura, pressing a wet smooch on his cheek and making him grimace in disgust. 

\--

Malik’s suit was done with five days to spare before the wedding, Isis’ dress with three. 

Isis’ dress was a dream in white. Delicate lace decorated her shoulders and arms. A golden brooch shone brightly at her neck. Pearls and shiny gemstones adorned the whole dress, laboriously sewn onto it one by one. The gown was tight on the top, hugging Isis’ figure, and wide at the bottom in a classic mermaid tail. Golden petticoats matching the golden ornamentation on the hem of the dress peaked out from underneath it.  

“It’s marvellous!” Happily, she spun in front of the mirror and turned to Bakura. “This is way better than anything I could’ve imagined. Thank you!”

Taken by surprise at Isis compliment, Bakura almost choked on his coffee and coughed. “Yeah, what can I say? All of my dresses are just _breathtaking_.”

Isis rolled her eyes, but not even Bakura’s stupid puns could ruin her mood today. The goofy grin stayed imprinted on her face as she turned again to look at herself in the mirror from all angles. “You’re coming to the wedding, aren’t you?”

Bakura raised an eyebrow. “Oh, am I now?” Mai had already invited him, but Isis never seemed too fond of him, so he hadn’t been so sure whether or not he should attend. 

“Yes, you are.” Isis said sternly, not taking no for an answer. She’d probably regret this decision later, but she knew Mai and Malik would want him to attend as well. Besides, he wasn’t so bad. Sure, he had a foul mouth and got on her nerves terribly sometimes, but somehow he had grown on her the past few weeks. She smiled at him to show she meant it. “Inviting you is the least we can do to repay you after you put all this work into our day.” 

“Well, technically, you could also pay me the money you owe me for the dresses,” Bakura teased.

“You better accept her offer before she changes her mind.” Malik chuckled. He tossed their credit card at the tailor, went to his sister, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “You look stunning.” 

\--

After they brought the dress home, Malik had one final meeting with Amir. They wanted to discuss how they could implement a little surprise into the wedding reception. As it was already evening, they decided to chill in one of the bars downtown. It didn’t take them long to come up with a decent plan and, in the end, things had been sorted out faster than expected. They hadn’t even finished half of their beers yet. 

Amir stretched his arms over his head. “Aaah yes, finally end of the work day.” 

Malik chuckled. “Yeah. Isn’t it stressful, having to deal with Bridezillas the whole time in your job?” 

A throaty laugh came from Amir. “Oh, believe me, it is. Fortunately, I’m not only exclusively doing weddings. Though the other clients aren’t much better either, to be honest. Why do you think Bakura has a whole bar hidden in his shop? Sometimes the only way to make them chill is to fill them up. Wish I had my own bar with me sometimes too.”

Malik lifted his pint in a toast. “Sounds about right.” He eyed the wedding planner from the side. “So, you’ve known Bakura for quite a while already, haven’t you? At least it seems like it.” 

Amir scratched his chin and nodded briefly. “Yeah, shared an apartment for a while after we both bailed from foster care. Most horrible idea ever!” He laughed again, but his expression turned soft. “He’s a good guy, but he tends to hide a lot behind this gigantic wall of sarcasm he’s built around himself.” He gestured wildly with his arms to demonstrate the extent of said barrier. 

“So I’ve noticed.” Malik chuckled and took another sip of his beer. 

“He likes you.” Amir stated quite boldly and grinned at his drinking companion. “Do me a favour and don’t hurt him. Because that would mean I’d need to come make your life a living hell and I’m not so sure if Ryou would approve of me murdering one of his friends.” 

A slight frown appeared on Malik’s face, but he was fast to turn it into a cocky raise of his eyebrow. “Oh, does he now? Well, he told me he didn’t want anything beyond fun.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

Malik shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Then both of you, you and him, are idiots.” Amir set his pint down on the table with a bit more force than necessary, emphasizing his point, but his voice sounded quite amused. 

“I guess we are.” Malik blinked at Amir and chuckled. Not only Amir could play this game. Time to turn the tables. “But who says we’re the only idiots here? What about you and Ryou?” 

Amir sputtered into his beer. “What?”

Malik’s laugh rang brightly through the room. “Oh, come on. You know what I mean.” 

Amir hugged his beer mug with both hands. “Alright, you got me there.” He grinned and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “We’ve spent quite some time together while trying to organize things. He knows Mai’s taste, so he offered to help out if Mai wasn’t available. We get along well, really well. And he’s just as sweet as the pastries he sells. But I’m not sure if he’s ready for anything more yet. I guess I’ll just have to wait patiently and see how things develop.” 

Malik smiled warmly at him. “You know, Ryou should consider himself lucky to have someone like you. And meanwhile, there’s me and I’m stuck with the biggest jerk there is.” He grimaced at the last part. 

“Hey.” Amir pointed at him. “I warned you that he’s an asshole. Not my fault you wouldn’t listen.”

They shared a laugh and ordered one more drink, slowly passing the evening, talking about lighter things.

\--

Malik brushed some sweat away with his arm and smeared more engine oil over his cheek. It was so warm that he hadn’t even bothered wearing the top part of his mechanics’ coverall over his tank top. At least today would be the last day of work before the wedding. He’d taken the next few days off to celebrate. 

He still had two cars to fix today, but luckily none of them needed any major repairs. The blond hummed contentedly to the song blasting from the radio. Working with his hands finally gave him time to relax his mind and calm down a bit, especially when there were no other people around as Malik’s co-worker had a day off, the boss of the garage lay in bed with the flu, and, so far, no new clients had shown up. 

Somewhere between fixing some broken lights and changing the engine oil, Malik’s mind had wandered off to Bakura again. The tailor had indeed done a marvellous job with both dresses and Malik felt they should properly thank him again for doing them on such a short notice at their next meeting.

Malik halted in his movements and his eyes went wide when he realized there would not be a next meeting anymore. Bakura’s job was done. Done. Finished. There was no reason to pass by his shop every second or third day. No reason anymore to sit there for hours at a time and talk, no opportunities for spontaneous little adventures. What had become a nice little habit for Malik was suddenly no more.

The blond clicked his tongue as he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He had grown quite fond of the idiot. Their arguing and bantering were fun and the sex and blowjobs had been amazing. How would he react if Malik just appeared there again? Would he be happy or would he be annoyed? Amir had said the idiot liked him, but Bakura himself had already stated before he wasn’t interested in dating or the like. Malik would be fine being friends with benefits on a more regular basis, but for that he’d first need to ask Bakura about it, preferably without seeming too needy. Maybe if Malik found a good excuse, he could pass by his studio again and ask anyways? But then, what would be a good excuse? Malik thought about just ordering another suit, but to be honest, he already had so many and he hated wearing them. His mind started to race as he tried to play through different scenarios in his head. 

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the sound of the car that had just arrived in the back of the garage. The loud slam of the driver’s door and the sound of heels on stone brought Malik back into reality. “Just a moment, please. I’ll be with you soon,” he called over his shoulder as he fastened the last screw of the vehicle over him. 

“Hello, Ishtar.” 

Malik rolled himself out from underneath the car, almost bumping his head in the progress. 

Standing in front of him was none other than Bakura, hands placed on his hips and sporting one of his denim miniskirts, black heels, a white shirt, and the most shit-eating grin Malik had ever seen. “I need you to work me over.”

The blond burst out in laughter as he got up from the board on the ground. Looks like he hadn't been the only one searching for shitty excuses. He wiped his hands on a piece of dirty cloth hanging over the toolbox next to him. A smirk appeared on his face. “You or your car?” 

Bakura leaned against his car and, if possible, his grin widened even more than before as he watched Malik stroll over to the sink and wash his hands thoroughly. “You heard me damn well, Ishtar.” 

Malik shook the water from his hands and closed the distance between them with a few steps. He grabbed a handful of Bakura’s hair, forcing the other to look up and drawing a growl from him. “And what makes you think I’ll do that here at work?”

With a fluid movement, Bakura hooked his legs around Malik’s waist and winked at him. “Just a hunch.”

 

 

Malik leaned over to turn the radio a bit louder. It probably wouldn’t cover all of their noise, but an attempt was made. Their mouths smashed together seconds afterwards in a passionate kiss. Bakura’s arms wound around Malik’s neck as the blond let go of Bakura’s bright hair and trailed his hands down Bakura’s sides. Bakura’s nails raked over Malik’s arms as Malik kissed down his jawline and sent shivers down the blond’s spine. An excited cry escaped Bakura’s lips when Malik bit his neck softly. He hitched his hips forward, grinding against Malik’s. 

Malik took his time kissing up and down Bakura’s neck and running his hands underneath Bakura’s shirt. Bakura smoothed his hands over Malik’s chest and trailed down until he found the zipper of the other’s coveralls, giving it a playful tug.

Malik harshly pushed Bakura onto his back on top of the car hood and ran his hand up Bakura’s stomach, pushing his shirt up in the process. “Wearing white to a place like this was a mistake.” He bent over Bakura and gave Bakura’s nipples a quick flick with his tongue.

Bakura moaned loudly. With another one of his smirks, he pulled a condom and a pack of lube out of his pocket. “ _Oh Gods, yes.Get me dirty, dirty boy_.” 

Malik’s pupils dilated when his gaze fell upon his new ‘tools’. Eagerly, he grabbed them from Bakura. “Turn around,” he ordered, taking a step back so the other could flip over. Bakura leaned forward, ass high, bracing himself on the hood of the car. 

Malik opened the zipper of his coveralls fully and pulled his pants down. With shaking hands, he rolled the condom over his erection and he thanked the Gods for Bakura’s ‘fuck gender conventions’ attitude – a skirt was a lot easier to push up than trousers were to pull off after all. Besides, Bakura had come prepared for their encounter, not wearing any underwear underneath. Malik didn’t know how well prepared his lover was in other regards and so he doused his fingers with lube. 

Bakura gave a rewarding moan the moment Malik pushed one of his fingers into his waiting entrance and a pleasant shiver went down Malik’s spine at the sound. It was no secret the other male wasn’t one to be quiet at all and it was thrilling not to know if they’d get caught in the act. 

Malik skimmed over Bakura’s lower back with his free hand and slowly moved his finger. When Bakura hitched his hips back, he added a second and soon afterwards a third finger, making Bakura moan again as he thrust them inside, hooking them slightly. 

They didn’t have much time for foreplay, so the moment Malik felt his lover was ready, he added lube to his hard cock and teasingly nudged his tip against Bakura’s ass. 

“Stop being a fucking tease!” Bakura called over his shoulder and hitched his hips backwards again. 

Malik grabbed ahold of Bakura’s hips and pushed inside, both of them moaning because of the sensation. He rolled his hips experimentally and they adjusted their position so Bakura had one knee atop the car hood for support and a better angle. Malik thrusted forward again and again, making Bakura sing his name. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Malik!”

The blond picked up his speed and wrapped his arm around Bakura so he could stroke him as well. He closed his fist around Bakura’s cock and thumbed his sensitive head between the metal barbells.  Bakura screamed out in pleasure and Malik growled as he tried to draw out his orgasm as long as he could. 

Bakura’s nails dug into the paint of the car and produced an ugly sound when he scratched over the metal surface, coming hot over it with one last loud cry. Malik’s composure crumbled as well and he let himself spiral high until orgasm hit him. He came with a cry to match Bakura’s. “Oh Gods, Bakura!”

Exhausted, Bakura collapsed on the vehicle. Malik leaned over him, trying to catch his breath. 

\--

After they got cleaned up again, they noticed their little ‘adventure’ had left a few traces on Bakura’s car, adding more scratches to its already shitty lacquer. 

“Whoops.” Malik gave Bakura an apologetic smile and scratched his head. 

The other merely waved his hand as he checked his reflection in the car window and adjusted his dust and oil stained, not-anymore-white shirt. “When you’re done checking my car, you can just paint over it, can’t you? Just put it on my check.” 

“Oh, well…” Malik scratched the back of his head once more. “You see, I can’t do paint jobs.” 

Bakura gave him a glance over his shoulder and nodded to the buckets of paint lined up on a shelf. “Why not? There’s a lot of paint right there and you don’t seem to be so busy right now.” 

“It’s not a question of supplies or time. I physically can’t do paint jobs,” Malik replied hesitantly. “I’m partially colour blind. I can’t mix the colours to get the right hue. Tried it once and almost got myself fired because of it. Boss said I’m not allowed to touch any it anymore.”

“Oh.” Surprise showed on Bakura’s face for a split second, but his expression soon returned to his usual grin. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll just take these home as trophies.” He said and patted the scratched hood of his car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you've noticed but whenever writing from Malik's POV I tried not to use any colours and rather described things either by texture or dark/light/pale. I know that's not how color blindness works and for some type of color blindness, people can still distinguish certain colors. However, I was more thinking that Malik got colors named wrongly so many times, that he stopped thinking in colors and rather pays attention to other stuff.  
> On the other side, when writing from Bakura's POV I made sure to let him use colors and also when they talk about Mai's dress, it's Bakura who talks about the color and not Malik. Moreover, it wasn't the first time that Bakura was picking on Malik's clothes combination because the colors were clashing and also The Atrocity™ might have something to do with its color XD


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, this chapter is quite stuffed, so I'm sorry if I'm rushing over several things a little too much.  
> I tried to do my research on egyptian arabic and japanese wedding customs, however, if you find something out of place or notice that I forgot something very important, please don't hesitate to let me know and I'll try to fix it up asap!  
> Also... at some point during the chapter, I just completely fried my brain and I blame this video

#  **Chapter 5**

 

The warm rays of the morning sun woke Malik on the day before the wedding. He stretched and yawned, paid the bathroom a visit, and strolled downstairs into the kitchen. He grumbled a greeting to his family, not really fully awake yet before his first dose of caffeine.

Isis looked as though she hadn’t slept much at all. Probably she had already been up and about for a few hours, cleaning the house and helping Rishid with the food.

Mai sat at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in her hand, still trying to wake up as well. At least one of them seemed calm. 

“How’s it going?” Malik asked as he leaned against the counter while he waited for his own coffee to brew.

“Good.” Rishid gestured towards the pile of food they had already prepared. “We’ll be done in a moment and then the girls have enough time to prepare before the guests arrive. If you could set up some music later, that’d be great.” 

“Sure.” Malik gave a nod and checked the time. It’d still be a few hours until the first guests would arrive, some close family members who had come from far away. They’d stay for coffee in the afternoon and afterwards they’d have the traditional henna evening, the _Laylat Al-Hinna_ , before the wedding when some of Mai’s closest friends would also join. Conventionally, the henna evening would only be for the bride and her female friends while the guys had a party with the groom. But this wasn’t quite a conventional wedding and there was no groom. So they had decided not to split the genders up in groups and celebrate together instead.

A little later, all the preparations were finished. Rishid and Malik spent some time watching sports on TV while the women took their time and got ready in the bathroom. Once they were done, they came downstairs to show off their henna dresses. Mai’s was an elegant and shiny cocktail dress whereas Isis’ was a bit more traditional and adorned with many embroidery ornamentation. Isis complained about how the colour of her pink dress didn’t suit her at all to which Malik simply replied he wouldn’t know because he was shit with colours anyways. Mai, on the other hand, had loved the occasion to add another pink dress to her ever growing collection. 

After the ladies had left the bathroom, Malik went up to get ready as well, choosing a traditional tunic with embroidered collar and some wide pants for the occasion. He was ready just in time when the doorbell announced the arrival of their first guests. 

Their aunt gave each of them a huge bear hug with her broken arm still plastered and the greeting and welcome of the rest of their aunts, uncles, and cousins was warm and lovely. They sat crowded in the living room on the couch or on big pillows on the floor and had coffee, tea, homemade cake or sweets. Soon, happy chatter filled the room, sometimes in Arabic, but most of the times in more or less broken English or Japanese to include Mai in their conversation as well. 

Some of the aunts started to unpack their henna dyes and tools to decorate the brides’ hands and feet, arms and legs with artistic drawings. Short bursts of Arabic were exchanged between them and Isis to which Isis chuckled lightly. With skilled hands, the women started their work on Isis’ and Mai’s _mehendi_.

“What did they say?” Mai asked confused. 

Isis chuckled again. “I told them what your name means translated. You’ll get a lot of peacock feathers on you now. They represent beauty. Quite fitting, isn’t it? Now hold still, this is going to take awhile.” 

The afternoon passed quickly and soon, Mai’s friends started to arrive for dinner. Ryou was the first one who arrived alongside some others. Happily, they joined into the round. A little later, Amir and Bakura appeared at their doorstep.

Malik was too busy making sure all the guests had whatever they needed, so he didn’t have a lot of time to talk. But he could swear he heard his sister calling “No! Don’t touch that, Bakura! I swear, if I didn’t need to hold my arms still for the _mehendi_ right now, I’d be punching that grin off your face right away!” with Mai’s shrill laugh following and a more quiet “Ryou, I’m hungry! Feed more dolma to the bride!”

Rishid joined Malik in the kitchen to prepare some new tea and bring some more fingerfood to the living room. 

“You think they’re going to survive the evening?” Malik teased. 

His older brother laughed softly. “Oh, don’t worry. They’re having a blast.” 

\--

Despite staying up late the night before, the next day started early again. The hairstylists and make-up artists rang at their door before nine. As relaxed as Mai had been all the time before, nervousness hit her hard now and they had to feed her three emergency muffins to calm her down at least a little bit. 

Keeping the brides from seeing each other in their gowns as they got ready within the same house was quite a task and required quite some organization skills as the brothers ran around to make sure to close and open different doors to the right times. Eventually, Isis was the first one ready and they drove her to the venue while Ryou stayed back with Mai for support. 

Most of the guests had gathered at the venue. The clear sky and warm weather allowed the ceremony to take place outside. The place was beautifully decorated with lots of roses and ribbons. For the ceremony, they had decided to go with a more Western-styled choice on Mai’s wish and they had rows and rows of chairs flanking an aisle leading from the building to a rose-covered archway with an altar. 

“They’re here!” Someone called from farther away.

Malik spotted the silhouette of Mai’s limousine between the bushes flanking the driveway. He gave Isis’ hand a light tug. “Time go inside and wait for the ceremony to start. Shall we?” 

His sister smiled nervously at him and nodded. She followed him into the building where they’d wait right behind the door until they would be called and Malik would lead her down the aisle. 

Now getting restless as well, Malik started fidgeting. To put it to good use, he adjusted the train on Isis’ dress, making sure it fanned out nicely behind her. He checked his own appearance again in the mirror and a knock on the door told them to take positions as it was time.

Isis patted his arm and beamed up at him. “Thank you, really. For all your help.” 

“Don’t make me cry now, sis. I’ve spent an hour in the bathroom doing my makeup,” Malik joked. He laughed to hide how much it affected him and he had to hold back some tears of joy for real. 

The big double winged door opened up, bright daylight and the flash of a camera greeting them. They blinked their eyes a few times to adjust to the light before Malik led Isis towards Mai. He handed his sister to her bride and took a seat at the side. Malik had been right back then; Isis did have to fight back tears of joy as well as soon as Mai removed her veil. 

Rishid smiled warmly at them. Instead of a monk or _Maa’zoun_ , they wanted an open ceremony and the honor of leading it had been given to the eldest Ishtar sibling. 

They had tried to come up with a nice mixture of rituals from both their cultures. Their ceremony started with a purification ritual. It was followed by _San San Ku Do_ where each bride took three sips of sake out of three different cups. As neither of their parents were still alive, Malik and Ryou substituted for them and took sips of sake as well. The _San San Ku Do_ was followed by another heart-warming speech from Rishid. The brides spoke their vows and exchanged rings. They signed the _Katb el-Kitab_ though this traditional wedding contract was merely for ritual purposes as they had already visited one of the administrative offices in town a few days prior to make the marriage legally binding. 

At the end of the ceremony, Rishid tied a white handkerchief around their laced hands and announced them wives. To their surprise, it was Isis who dipped Mai backwards to place a kiss on her lips, not the way around. The crowd broke into a loud cheer and gathered around them for group pictures.

 

A crowd of giggling bridesmaids swarmed up behind them as Isis and Mai took a hold of their flowers together and tossed them backwards over their shoulder. They had underestimated their strength and the bouquet flew a bit further than anticipated, hitting Bakura right on the head. 

“Ouch! What the hell is that?!” Dumbfounded Bakura stared at the bouquet for a second before realization hit and he threw it off to the side. “Ew! Get it away!” 

It landed right on Ryou’s lap instead and the poor boy blushed a deep red. “Oh my.” 

Both blonds, Amir and Malik, burst out laughing. 

\--

The newlywed couple had their photoshoot in the gardens adjacent to the venue in the afternoon and early evening until the light conditions were too poor. Once they were done, the wedding guests gathered again for a short procession around the building, the _Zaffa,_ led by a _Raqs Shamadan_ dancer. 

Afterwards, everyone met up inside the building in the big ball room. Mai and Isis made their big entrance as they strode down the stairs and onto a small podium with two big chairs. They took a seat in their thrones. More speeches were made and Malik felt his voice tremble at the end of his own. He was happy when he could finally step down again and hand the microphone to someone else. 

When the speeches were done, the couple shared the _Sharbat_ , a sweetened rose drink, thereby officially opening the buffet and the feast. People lined up in front of the couple to congratulate and wish them all the best. For dinner, their guests could choose from a variety of Japanese, European and Middle Eastern delicacies. Meanwhile, Rishid made sure the brides got something to eat as they were stuck with many people congratulating them and wanting to take photos with them. 

While they ate, they had show groups and dancers entertain them on a stage. Currently there was a group of musicians playing classical and modern pieces on different traditional japanese instruments. 

Malik barely got any food down, too nervous about his performance. He stole himself backstage at some point and changed his suit to much more exposing attire consisting of a short vest with delicate embroidery that covered enough to hide his scars, a veil connecting both of his bracelets behind his back, wide harem pants, a jingly belt, and tons of golden jewelry. 

It would soon be time for the _Raqs Shamadan,_ dancers crowned with a chandelier who lit the way for the newlywed couple’s bright future, to enter the stage. Malik knew their past hadn’t always been easy on their family, but they had always managed. He loved his sister and he wanted her future to be nothing but bright. As a gesture for his support for her, he had asked to assume the role of the lead dancer for the chandelier performance. Neither Isis nor Mai knew yet though. It’d be a surprise. 

Malik took some deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, the weight of the chandelier heavy on his head. He loved dancing and was quite confident about himself as long as his scars were covered, but giving a performance in front of so many people was still enough to unsettle him.

The blond could hear the crowd cheering as the show group before them finished. The stage was dark as Malik and the other two dancers positioned themselves. Only the candles atop their candelabras crowns gave a dim glow.  Soft lighting emerged from behind them in the shape of stars on the wall, illuminating the scene so just their silhouettes were seen as the first beats of the music started. The candles barely moved as the dancers swayed their hips slowly from side to side and then jerked them back again to make the gold on their belts jingle. 

The drums picked up in speed. The spotlights flared up, their light reflecting in all directions from the metal ornaments and jewelry of the dancers. Malik’s smile was as bright as the lights when he swayed his hips in rhythm to the music. A few fast steps with the gold flashing from his belt were followed by a slow roll of his abs and a slower circular movement of his hips. He lifted his arms elegantly as he did a turn to put the veil on his back into nice display. Smaller fast steps followed and then bigger ones as he turned to face the audience again. 

Sweat began to build up on Malik’s skin as he writhed his body to the rhythm of the drums and bells. His skin and hair shone, almost rivalling the gold he wore. Malik definitely enjoyed his time in the spotlight with all attention on him. The months and months of practice had definitely been worth it.

 

As he danced, he scanned the crowd for his family and friends, giving his siblings and Mai a warm smile. He couldn’t spot either Ryou or Amir in the crowd, but he did see how Bakura’s face changed in colour and he stuffed a piece of tissue into his nose to stop it from bleeding. Malik had to stifle back a laugh. If Bakura was lucky, the blond would consider wearing his costume again later for a private performance.

The music slowed and Malik teased the audience with a few more deliberately slow rolls of his abs. He took a few wide steps to shift his weight from one side to the other. With each sound of the tambourine, he added a smaller step and jolted his hip again.

The speed of the music decreased even further until the dancers would only move with each slow beat of the drums and bells. Slow, two times fast, slow. The same rhythm sped again for a faster finale and the dancers gave their best as the audience began to clap to the beat. They struck their final pose and the guests applauded loudly.

Breathing heavily, Malik bowed, grinning at his sister, and winked at a certain tailor. He retreated backstage with the other dancers, got himself cleaned up, and changed back into his suit. Then he bee-lined straight to the bar, needing something to drink. 

“Bitch, I almost ruined my suit because of you.” Bakura scowled at the blond as he poured himself a drink next to Malik. 

“Liked what you saw?” Malik chuckled and lidded his eyes, his voice low and sultry as he leaned over to him, his breath hot on Bakura’s skin. “My room’s number 207. Come by after the party if you want an encore to my show.” 

“Well, I certainly ain’t saying no to that.” Bakura let out a sound similar to a purr. He clicked his tongue. “Why did you take a hotel room anyways? You don’t live so far away.” 

“Well. I knew I’d dance and I knew you’d be here, so booking a room seemed like a reasonable option.” Malik winked at him again and turned to go. “Catch ya later; my sister’s calling me over.” 

\--

After everyone was well fed with the dinner main course, it was time to cut the cake. Ryou and Amir proudly brought the cake inside. They had been missing earlier to fix it up for presentation. The multi-tier cake was huge and beautiful. Ryou had done a marvellous job with it. It was covered in white fondant with a lace pattern running around the base of each cake tier. Golden sugar pears decorated it. Two bridal figures stood on top of the highest tier, their trains and veils fading into handmade sugar roses cascading down both sides of the cake. 

Mai grinned widely as she held the huge knife in her hands. 

“Wow. Careful now,” Isis warned her. She took a hold of the knife handle together with her wife and they cut the first piece of cake. As was the custom, they fed each other small pieces of cake and giggled like the lovestruck morons they were. 

After everyone else had been given cake, Mai and Isis opened the first dance with a traditional waltz. They moved elegantly across the dancefloor, the long sweeps of their dresses moving around them, looking like a beautiful two-toned swirl as they only had eyes for each other and no one else. 

All stress from the past few weeks was forgotten and Malik had never seen Isis happier before. He grinned like a fool and his smile widened when he saw his usually so stoic brother wearing the same goofy expression on his face. It looked like the soft giant was close to crying. Again.

Malik also noticed Bakura’s odd, somewhat bittersweet expression. He wore his usual shitty grin, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. 

The blond blinked and tilted his head, wondering what was up with him now. He remembered the dress and the tuxedo in the display window of Bakura’s shop and a sudden wave of sadness overcame Malik as he realized how hard it must be for Bakura to be a guest at so many weddings, but never his own. And at that moment Malik realized that he didn’t want to see Bakura unhappy. That he wasn’t happy with their current arrangement. He didn’t just want to be a booty call anymore; he wanted to be more. 

Malik bumped his arm against Bakura’s. “Hey, asshole.”

“What?” Bakura snapped at him in his usual bad mood. 

Malik held out his hand to him. “Care for a dance?” 

Bakura blinked at him surprised. He stared at Malik’s hand as if it was something he’d never seen before. Slowly, he reached for it with his own, but hesitated. 

“Come on, accept. It’s just a dance. We’ve danced before, so come on.” Malik smiled at him and curled his lips up in a smirk. “You’re not afraid to embarrass yourself because you can’t dance real dances for shit, are you?” 

Bakura laughed, challenged by Malik’s words. “Bitch, I’ll show you how it’s done.” His words carried his usual sass, but the smile when Bakura took Malik’s hand was his first true smile that Malik had ever seen on him. 

Bakura hadn’t lied. He was a good dancer. Very good even. The dance, a fast salsa, came as easy as their usual banter, back and forth. They laughed as they kept changing the lead randomly, so each one of them could have fun with spins and elaborate turns and it was the first time Malik heard a real, carefree laugh from Bakura, happy and free from his usual sarcasm. 

They danced until their feet hurt and until Malik had to socialize with some of their other guests to make sure everyone was well supplied with food and drinks and had what they needed. 

Meanwhile Bakura looked for Amir, but the huge crowd had been a bit too much for him. Planning and organizing was one thing, but crowds appeared to give Amir a sensory overload. Therefore, he had retreated under one of the tables where he hid together with Ryou to eliminate several pieces of cake. 

With his best friend and his lover both currently unavailable, Bakura started to pester the brides. He dragged Mai and Isis into a wedding drinking game. Mai was fast to agree. Isis needed a few shots to relax, but in the end, she won. 

The party picked up and more people joined in on the dancefloor when the music switched to disco. Joyful songs blasted through the room. The playlist was well balanced, ensuring there was something suited for each side of the now bigger family.

At some point, Malik retreated to the outdoor area to have a moment of peace from the noise and people. He leaned against the balustrade and watched people go crazy on the dancefloor inside. 

“Getting away from the crowd, eh Ishtar?” Bakura appeared next to him with two glasses of wine in hand. 

Malik thankfully accepted one of the glasses, although he knew he had probably already drunk enough for that night. “Yeah, I can’t stand so many people at once.” 

Bakura lifted himself onto the balustrade. He hummed in approval and lifted his glass in a toast to the sky before taking a swig. 

 

“Hey, Bakura?”

Bakura hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Do you feel like going to the movies with me next Saturday?” 

“Malik…” A pained expression crossed Bakura’s face. He scratched his neck in thought. “You know I don’t do dates…”

“Oh… right.” Malik looked down to his wine glass, swirling it a little and watching the liquid move around inside. 

“However…” Bakura took another sip from his drink. “If you were to… coincidentally come by this European restaurant down the street where my shop is at… maybe 7 pm on Friday, I might just decide to coincidentally go there as well. And I mean taking two different tables would be a waste of space, really, wouldn’t it? Totally hypothetically speaking of course because how big is the chance that we’d both be there at the same time. Coincidentally.” He lifted his hands in defence. “Look, all I’m saying is I like to eat dinner at this place after work from time to time. This Friday at 7 pm specifically.” 

“Got it,” Malik chuckled. 

\--

Malik awoke early again when the morning sun warmed up the hotel room. Silently, he cursed his inner clock that told him to rise and shine together with Ra. Yawning, he sat up and rolled his shoulders, making a few joints pop. He rubbed his eyes and smudged the remnants of his kohl even more over his face.

The blond froze and held his breath when suddenly a pair of pale, slender arms wrapped around his waist and soft lips ghosted light kisses over one of his scars. There was no point in hiding them anymore, not after Bakura knew of them anyways. The sensation of anyone touching him there was still unfamiliar, yet Malik wouldn’t mind if Bakura kissed him there every morning.

“Already leaving?” Bakura mumbled, still half asleep. He nuzzled Malik’s neck and rested his forehead on his shoulder, burying his face in Malik’s hair. 

Malik smiled at Bakura’s sudden tenderness. He had already noticed that, despite everything Bakura said and claimed to be or not to do, the moment he fell asleep he’d come and snuggle up to Malik no matter what. Maybe he wasn’t awake enough yet to be out of that state. 

“Bathroom. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

Bakura hummed and eventually let go of him. When Malik returned, he had already dozed off again, but he let out a soft noise when Malik’s warmth returned to his side. 

\--

Malik was surprised by the restaurant Bakura had chosen. It had a lot more class than he had expected it to have. The waiter showed him to a table in the corner. Malik had to suppress a laugh because it looked just too much like a romantic cliché candlelight dinner instead of their “not a date.” 

Bakura was already there, waiting for him. He gave Malik one of his trademark grins when the blond arrived and sat down. 

“This looks too elaborate just to be a coincidence.” Malik raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Bakura shrugged innocently. “Someone cancelled their booking and the table was already set up. They didn’t know what to do with it, so they asked if I wanted to have it.”

Malik’s eyebrow rose higher. He shook his head in disbelief, chuckling and deciding to play along with the game. “It seems we’re lucky today then.” He accepted the menu card from the waiter and started to skip through it. “Can you recommend any vegetarian dishes? I don’t eat meat.”

In the same moment, another waitress came to their table with an extra set of candles. “Here are the extra candles you asked for,” she said with a smile as she put them down and lit them. 

Malik stared at Bakura, speechless.

Bakura stared at Malik, speechless. 

“Oh my Gods, Bakura. You’re a romantic sap!”

“Oh my god, Malik. You’re a vegetarian!”

  


##  **Bonus**

 

Amir&Ryou: *coming back from taking care of the cake* What did we miss?

Malik: I danced

Bakura: hhhhrrrr

Amir&Ryou: aww damn and we missed it

Malik: don't worry. I'm sure the wedding photographer recorded it. Maybe he'll put it onto the DVD

Bakura: ....... where and how do I get my hands on that DVD

Malik: @ Bakura: maybe I'll make a special edition just for you~

Bakura: 

\--

When Mai holds up the knife to cut the cake:

Mai: *holds up huge knife and grins*

Bakura: ........ goddamnit this is already the second boner for today

Malik: I thought you weren't into women?

Bakura: Dumbass, I'm not talking about her, I'm talking about knifey


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I'd like to thank everyone for sticking around until the end! It was so nice to see how many of you actually liked this AU and it made me super happy!  
> Second I didn't draw art for this chapter because if I had wanted to draw something, then it would've been Bakura's wedding dress. But among SO MANY possibilities, I couldn't decide how it should look like. So that's where you get into play! I've made a bonus section again where I will include all suggestions that you guys give me! It can be either a link to a website or a photo or a drawing! Let me know what you think!

#  **Epilogue**

 

Malik ran a hand through his soft hair, brushing it backwards and making sure it looked nice. Once more, he checked his appearance in the mirror, hoping no one would see how nervous and stressed he was. He adjusted the tie around his neck and the cuffs of his sleeves before he took Rishid’s arm and his brother led him down the aisle.

Malik still couldn’t believe how things had developed in the six years since their sister’s wedding. 

\--

_ The “not a date” at the restaurant went surprisingly well. For once they actually talked, real talk and not just bickering back and forth. They realized they actually had a lot more in common than initially thought. Malik paid the restaurant a visit the following week as well, pleased to find Bakura waiting there again. Another “this is still not a date” at the park and “this is totally not a date either” at the summer festival downtown followed. It brought a smile to Malik’s face how stubbornly Bakura defended this ridiculous not-a-date idea while he snuggled up Malik’s chest with a soft coo and fell asleep in his arms.  _

_ At some point, Malik brought Bakura some red flowers. Malik’s memory usually never bothered to save information about colours as it was irrelevant to him, so he was all the more proud when he remembered Bakura’s favorite was red. The idiot had made his usual dumb and snarky comments about the flowers, but then his expression softened up again and he actually complimented them and said the flowers were perfect.  _

_ The day afterwards, Amir came over to Bakura’s place for a visit. He made a comment on the stark yellow colour of the flowers after which Bakura corrected him and said that the flowers were, indeed, red. Amir laughed and asked him if he was dumb because ‘that’s fucking yellow’ in response to which Bakura punched him and yelled that Malik had gotten him those and if Malik said they were red, then the fucking flowers were fucking red. They started to roughhouse playfully, still arguing about the flowers. Bakura in his usual mini skirt trying to wrestle Amir was quite a sight. They stopped when they noticed Malik leaning in the doorway, watching them with a raised eyebrow. He’d heard the whole conversation from the corridor. Amir opened his mouth to say something, but Bakura settled their argument by stomping on his foot and hissing “They’re fucking red, got it?!” _

_ Malik burst out laughing. “Aww, man, I fucked it up again, didn’t I?”, he said, but he was more amused over it than upset. However, Malik did really appreciate Bakura defending him and playing along with the red flowers earlier because he hadn’t wanted Malik to feel bad for picking the wrong choice yet again.  _

_ Amir asked how the hell Malik had gotten into the apartment in the first place and Malik  just held up the key Bakura had given him - totally only for emergencies only of course, not because he had wanted Malik to come by more often, absolutely not, nope. _

_ And a little later it just so happened that, totally coincidentally mind you, Malik’s toothbrush appeared in Bakura’s bathroom and, not much later, an extra set of clothes. Nobody knew where they came from, really. It was a mystery.  _

_ And as more and more of Malik’s clothes ended up at Bakura’s place, the tailor noticed how much the struggle to find matching outfits for his business job frustrated his partner. Yet, Malik seemed too proud to ask for help. So as mysteriously as the clothes appeared in Bakura’s closet, small tags appeared in them reading ‘blue’, ‘red’, ‘green’, ‘DON’T COMBINE WITH PURPLE SHIRT’ and the like. It was only a small gesture, but it still brought a smile to Malik’s face every morning. _

_ At some point, Malik moved in completely, so he could spend each day with Bakura. Their relationship was easy and uncomplicated, each one of them retaining their freedom, but at the end of the day they’d always return to each other. _

_ After four years of being totally-not-boyfriends-almost-spouses, Malik had gotten them matching bracelets. Knowing about Bakura’s past and what a red flag the topic marriage was to him, the blond hadn’t dared to buy rings. He hadn’t wanted to upset him by bringing up past pain again. Bakura had accepted it without a word, but sometimes Malik caught him grinning at it goofily when he felt unobserved during the years that followed.  _

_ It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. Both of them shared a blanket on the couch, Malik busy with his laptop and Bakura reading a book. At least he intended to read the book, but his gaze wandered off to the window in deep thought.  _

_ “Hey, bitch.” Bakura broke the silence between them.  _

_ “What do you want, asshole?” Malik’s didn’t even look up from his screen.  _

_ “I think I’ve made up my mind.”  _

_ Malik’s interest was caught and he looked over to his lover. “About what?” _

_ Bakura was still watching the rain hitting the glass panel of the window. “I want to wear my dress anyways.”  _

_ It took a few seconds for the realization to sink in, but when it did, Malik’s eyes went wide. He pounced on his lover, pressing a kiss on his lips in response.  _

 

#  **Bonus**

 

Picture by [Ninjam](https://ninjam117.tumblr.com/)

picture by [cosmopoeicpower](https://cosmopoeicpower.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super sad it's already over. So, if you take a look up there I've upped the story from 6 to 7 chapters because I have one more ace up my sleeve for next week! XD


	7. Extra Chapter: Bakura's Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun playing with Bakura's character in this story and after finishing the story I had some other scenes in my mind that I thought might be worth sharing.   
> And I totally blame Sita for the "nice old ladies who help Bakura getting back on track" headcanon XDDD

#  **Extra Chapter: Bakura’s past**

Bakura was stalking through the aisles of the supermarket, a scrawny kid just over sixteen with wild hair in all colours of the rainbow. His fist opened and closed in the (still) empty pocket of his jacket. He licked his lip as he looked around and made sure none of the surveillance cameras caught him. 

After escaping from their latest foster family together with Amir, they didn't have any money left.They’d been living on the streets for months already, barely getting by and Bakura knew that if they wanted to eat something tonight, he’d have to steal one or two things from the supermarket shelves yet again.

Security was nowhere to be seen, so Bakura took the chance to let several candy bars vanish into his sleeve. They were small and easy to hide after all. The cups of instant noodles were harder to hide, but he had borrowed Amir’s jacket which was extra baggy on him, so that should work. He was just about to round the corner when he collided with the security man he’d been trying so hard to avoid. One cup of ramen fell out of his too wide jacket, clattered to the floor where it broke and spilled.

Bakura cursed under his breath as he spun around and dashed to the exit, trying to make a fast escape. Unfortunately for him, a second security guard stopped him right in front of the door.

Thrashing the guards with his hands and feet and yelling insults at his captors, he was dragged towards the office, certainly for the shop manager to call the police on him.

“There you are!” A soft voice suddenly called and an elderly lady appeared next to them. She turned her gaze towards the guards. “You must apologize my grandson’s behaviour. He’s a little difficult sometimes. Is it possible to sort things out if I just pay the bill for the things he took?”

Bakura looked from the old woman to the guards and back again. Grandson? Who the hell was that old hag? But she offered to pay and get him out of trouble, so it was worth to play along. “Grandma! There you are! I couldn’t find you anymore and I didn’t have any money on me and I was just sooo hungry!” He put on the best puppy face he could muster and it seemed to work. They let him go as long as ‘grandma’ covered all expenses.

Carrying a paper bag with groceries, Bakura trailed after her out of the shop. His expression turned into a scowl the moment they were out of the guard’s sight. “What the hell was that about? I don’t even know you!”

The old woman chuckled. “You looked like you could need some kindness in your life, son.”

Bakura just snorted. “Yeah, right. What do you want in return? Nothing comes for free in life.”

“I believe that kindness is best repaid with kindness, son.” The woman mused, her brows furrowed slightly. “There’s nothing I want in return.”

The teenager huffed and turned on his heel. He didn’t trust her words one bit. “Well, if that’s the case I don’t need to stick around any longer. See ya, granny.”

‘Grandma’ stopped as well and watched him over her shoulder. “However, I do have a proposition to make.”

Bakura rolled his eyes. Alright, here it comes. Nothing was for free after all. “What could you possibly offer that would be of any interest for me?”

The elder turned to him. “I watched you in the shop. You’ve got quite the fast hands. Very dexterous. I could use someone like you.”

Disgusted, Bakura scrunched up his nose and prepared to run. “EW! I’m not one of those boys, you old hag!”

The woman burst into laughter. “Not like that, son, not like that.” She wiped tears of laughter out of her eyes. “I have a tailor shop in town, but I’m getting old and my stiff fingers hurt. I’m looking for an apprentice to relieve me of some work in the shop. Of course I’d pay you.”

Now it was Bakura’s turn to burst into laughter. “Do I look like someone who spends his time stitching little roses on stupid dresses?” He waved at her. “Goodbye, granny, and good luck on your search. Maybe you’ll have more luck when looking for actually decent people to help you.”

“Decent people are easy to find; however, skilled people are not!” She called after him.

\--

Two weeks later, Bakura found himself scouting out every tailor shop in town. The cold season had just started now and getting by on the street was hard. Out in the rain, Amir had caught a bad cold that could turn into pneumonia if untreated. Bakura grit his teeth. Without money to buy some decent medication... no, he didn't even want to think about it. 

He was a good pick-pocket, but his loot hadn't been enough and sometimes he'd spent hours just observing and trailing new victims. All consuming time which he didn't have now. If he wanted to get by, he'd need a job with real pay, maybe a health insurance even. No one would ever be willing to give a punk from the street any work and yet the old hag had presented it to him on a sliver plate. He’d be stupid to refuse her offer in the current situation.

Eventually, Bakura spotted the old witch through the window of a tailor shop for custom made dresses for all occasions. The boy grimaced and turned around. No, that was certainly not for him. He was about to leave when the door opened and the old hag greeted him with a warm smile.

Bakura shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced to the side. “So… about that job offer… I might need some money after all.”

The pay of the first week had been enough to take Amir to a doctor and get him the treatment he needed.

\--

For the first few weeks, they started with learning the basics. The old woman had invited him to her atelier after the shop was closed and together they’d work on new creations. The tailor would show him how things were done and when her fingers tired too much, she’d let him continue under her supervision.

He got his first own little projects after two months and after half a year, granny said she’d want him in the shop during the opening hours as well, so he’d learn how to handle the customers, take their measurements, and translate them into the cutting patterns as well.

“You’ll need to represent the shop, son,” she told him. “So, you need to look representable. You’ll need some business clothes.”

Bakura scrunched up his nose again as he looked down himself, worn out jeans with holes and a dirty red hoodie. “And where would I get the money to pay those clothes? Your pay is just enough to afford a roof over my head.”

The woman smiled warmly and gestured to the wall of fabrics behind her. “So? Then make yourself some. You’re free to use whatever I have here and in a week I want to see what you have made.”

\--

Bakura was torn between making things right and fucking things up. Old grandma had been so nice to him over the past few months and it was thanks to her small pay that Bakura and Amir wouldn’t need to live on the street anymore. He wanted to make things right for her and he didn’t want to ruin her shop by scaring off her customers. But at the same time, he was boiling on the inside for being told by society’s fucked up standards what he had to wear, how he had to look like, how he had to act, what was decent, and what was not. He didn’t want anyone to tell him how to dress and he wanted to give a big FUCK YOU to the very same society that had fucked his life over several times already.

He’d made up his mind. He grabbed some fabric and started to sew.

\--

Bakura did a mocking bow towards his elder when he presented his creation. “So, what do you say, old hag? Do I meet your standards?”

The woman adjusted the glasses on her nose as she circled around him and took a closer look.

Bakura chuckled and leisurely placed a hand on his hip. His lips curled up in one of his shiteating grins that appeared whenever he could successfully piss someone off. “So? I’m waiting for your judgement,” he sing-songed as he spun around to make his skirt billow around him. Instead of crafting himself a fancy suit, he’d made himself a knee-long skirt and a blouse with ruffles, certainly elegant but not something granny had expected of him.

The woman circled around him again before she nodded. “Good job.”

Dumbfounded Bakura stared at her. “Well. That’s new.”

Grandma chuckled. “What’s new?”

Bakura still blinked at her in surprise. “Being praised for fucking with society rules.”

“Well, it certainly is unconventional.” She tilted her head from side to side. “But it’s nice and it suits you. Some of the edges might still be a little rough, but that’s something we can work on together and I can show you how to hide the seams better next time. Aside from that, good job, my child.” She smiled at him.

“Aren’t you mad at me or something?” Bakura raised his brows, still in disbelief.

“Do you like yourself looking like this?” The woman tilted her head as she watched him.

Bakura looked down himself.  “Uh… yeah, I guess? At least it looked right when I made. It’s comfortable and oh my god, the skirt gives me so much leg freedom, I love it.”    


Laughing softly, the woman patted his shoulder. “I gave you a task and you fulfilled that task. I told you to make an outfit suited for business and that’s what you did. And you did even more. Instead of going for the obvious, you added your own personality to it. You’re a free spirit and you have the mind of an artist. I would be a fool to discourage that.”

“I…” Bakura hesitated and then bowed to his elder, sincerely this time. “Thank you, grandma.”

The woman placed an arm around his shoulders. “But just between you and me. Those boots look horrible with the rest of the outfit.”

The teen looked at himself, down his pretty new outfit and to the old worn out boots. He burst into laughter. “They do, don’t they.” He blinked in surprise when he felt several bank notes being shoved into his hand. “What’s this for?”

Granny patted his shoulder again. “Go get yourself some new shoes in the shop around the corner. I’m sure they have something nice for you, child.”

Bakura looked at the money and then beamed at his tutor. “Will do!” 

Just a few months ago, he’d just have taken the money and bailed. But for the first time in years, he had a good future in sight and he didn’t want to lose that.

“Here’s the rest of the money,” he said as he returned and tossed the change on the counter.

“Oh? I thought you’d keep the change.”

“I’m not stealing anymore, granny. At least not from you or your customers.”

\--

Years passed and Bakura proved to be living up to the old tailor’s expectations. He was skilled with his hands and had a good eye for details and shapes. By now, he had already finished many creations on his own. The road hadn’t always been easy and he’d made many mistakes, but granny had been patient with him until the very end.

Bakura stuck his tongue out between his lips and toyed with his piercing as he concentrated hard on his work. With a magnifier and tweezers, he placed the last rhinestone on the stark white dress.

He let out a sigh of relief and took a few steps back from the finished gown. Gloriously, it sat on the mannequin right next to the matching tuxedo.

“I can’t believe it’s done.” Bakura muttered. It was the dress he needed to get the last official certificate announcing him a master of his craftsmanship. His literal masterpiece into which he had poured his heart and soul.

Feet shuffled over the ground behind him and grandma appeared by his side. “It’s beautiful, my child. You’ll look marvellous in it at the wedding.”

Bakura sniffed. Stupid him, why was he getting all sentimental now? He pretended to have gotten something in his eye, but he knew he couldn’t fool his mentor. “I’m looking forward to it, granny.” He bit his lip as concern showed on his face. “However, I’ve been wondering… Can I continue working for you after I got my certificate? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Granny sighed and walked over to a nearby chair, already exhausted from standing for too long. “My dear child. I’m old and my old bones are too tired to keep running this shop. I have no energy left to continue anymore.”

Sadly, Bakura watched her. “I see. I’ll have to look out for something new then.”

The old woman coughed. “However, I’d be really sad to see my tailor shop close down. I’ve spent so many years to build it up. It’d be a shame if there was no one to run it after I retire, wouldn’t it?”

“You want me to continue on my own?” Bakura asked surprised. He was good at his job, but at just 21 he felt too young and inexperienced to run it without guidance.

“I know you’ll do a good job on it, my child. The shop’ll be in good hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys. This is it. That's the end and the fic is completed. Thank you so much for sticking around until the end <3


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